LIBRARY 
'.,  of  CaNtonta 

IRViNE 


TRUMPETER  FRED 


CAPT.  C1IAKLE:,  KING,  U.  S.  A. 


TRUMPETER   FRED 


A  STORY  OF  THE  PLAINS 


BY 


CAPTAIN  CHARLESJCING,  U.  S.  A. 

AUTHOR  OF  "  FORT  FRAYNK,"  "AN  ARMY 
WIFE,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRA  TED 


F.   TENNYSON  NEELY 

PUBLISHER 

NEW  YORK  CHICAGO 

1896 


PS 


Copyright,  1896, 

BY 
F.  TENNYSON  NEELY 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  A   DANGEROUS   MISSION,      .            .  .         17 

II.  THE   OATH   OF   ENLISTMENT,             .  26 

III.  A    ROBBER    IN    CAMP,  ...         40 

IV.  SUSPICIOUS   CIRCUMSTANCES,             .  47 
V.  TRAILING   THE   TRAITOR,                .  .         56 

VI.  CONCLUSIVE    EVIDENCE,            .            .  67 

VII.  TELEGRAPHIC    DISPATCHES,           .  .          75 

VIII.  LOYAL   FRIENDS,                 ...  87 

IX.  LURKING    FOES,              .            .            .  .       IOI 

X.  IN    SUSPENSE,            .            .            .            .  "lJ3 

XI.  HEMMED  IN    BY    SAVAGE    FOES,  .  .124 

XII.  MYSTERIOUS   HOOF-PRINTS,                .  135 

XIII.  AWAY   TO   THE   RESCUE  !     .            .  .148 

XIV.  INNOCENT  OR   GUILTY,             .       *P  164 
XV.  COURT-MARTIAL 179 

XVI.  PRISON    AND    PROMOTION,         .            .  l88 


TRUMPETER    FRED. 


TRUMPETER  FRED. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A    DANGEROUS    MISSION. 

[HERE  were  only  thirty  in 
all  that  night  when  the 
troop  reached  the  Niobrara  and 
unsaddled  along  the  grassy  banks. 
Rather  slim  numbers  for  the  duty 
to  be  performed,  and  with  the  cap 
tain  away,  too.  Not  that  the 
men  had  lack  of  confidence  in 
Lieutenant  Blunt,  but  it  was  prac 
tically  his  first  summer  at  Indian 
campaigning,  and,  however  well  a 


1 8  TRUMPETER   FRED. 

young  soldier  may  have  studied 
strategy  and  grand  tactics  at  West 
Point,  it  is  something  very  differ 
ent  that  is  needed  in  fighting  these 
wild  warriors  of  our  prairies  and 
mountains.  Blunt  was  brave  and 
spirited,  they  all  knew  that ;  but  in 
point  of  experience  even  Trumpe 
ter  Fred  was  his  superior.  All 
along  the  dusty  trail,  for  an  hour 
before  they  reached  the  ford,  the 
tracks  of  the  Indian  ponies  had 
been  thickly  scattered.  A  war 
party  of  at  least  fifty  had  evidently 
gone  trotting  down  stream  not  six 
hours  before  the  soldiers  rode  in  to 
water  their  tired  and  thirsty  steeds. 
No  comrades  were  known  to  be 
nearer  at  hand  than  the  garrison 
at  Fort  Laramie,  fifty  long  miles 
away,  or  those  guarding  the  post  of 


A   DANGEROUS  MISSION.  19 

Fort  Robinson,  right  in  the  heart 
of  the  Indian  country,  and  in  the 
very  midst  of  the  treacherous 
tribes  along  White  River.  And 
yet,  under  its  second  lieutenant 
and  with  only  twenty-nine  "  rank 
and  file,"  here  was  "B"  Troop 
ordered  to  bivouac  at  the  Niobrara 
crossing,  and  despite  the  fact  that 
all  the  country  was  alive  with  war 
parties  of  the  Sioux,  to  wait  there 
for  further  orders. 

"  Only  twenty-nine  men  all  told 
and  a  small  boy,"  said  Sergeant 
Dawson,  who  was  forever  trying 
to  plague  that  little  trumpeter. 
It  was  by  no  means  fair  to  Fred 
Waller,  either,  for  while  he  was 
somewhat  undersized  for  his  fif 
teen  years,  his  carbine  and  his 
Colt's  revolver  were  just  as  big 


20  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

and  just  as  effective  as  those  of 
any  man  in  the  troop,  and  he 
knew  how  to  use  them,  no  matter 
how  hard  the  "  Springfield " 
kicked.  He  rode  one  of  the  tall 
est  horses,  too,  and  sat  him  well 
and  firmly,  notwithstanding  all  his 
furious  plunging  and  "  buckings," 
the  day  that  Dawson  slipped  the 
thorny  sprig  of  a  wild  rosebush 
under  the  saddle  blanket. 

From  the  first  sergeant  down  to 
the  newest  recruit,  all  the  men 
had  grown  fond  of  little  Fred  in 
that  year  of  rough  scouting  and 
campaigning  around  old  Red 
Cloud's  reservation — all  of  them, 
that  is  to  say,  with  the  possible 
exception  of  Dawson,  who  an 
noyed  him  in  many  ways  when 
the  officers  or  first  sergeant  did  not 


A   DANGEROUS  MISSION.  21 

happen  to  be  near,  and  who  some 
times  spoke  sneeringly  of  him  to 
such  of  the  troopers  as  would  listen, 
but  these  were  very  few  in  number. 
Fred  was  the  only- son  of  brave 
old  Sergeant  Waller,  who  had 
served  with  the  regiment  all  over 
the  plains  before  the  great  war 
of  the  rebellion,  and  who  had 
been  its  standard-bearer  in  many 
a  sharp  fight  and  stirring  charge 
in  Virginia.  Now  he  carried. two 
bullet  wounds,  and  on  his  bronzed 
cheek  a  long  white  seam,  a  saber 
scar,  as  mementoes  of  Beverly 
Ford,  Winchester,  and  Five  Forks, 
and  through  the  efforts  of  his  war 
commanders  a  comfortable  berth 
as  ordnance  sergeant  had  been 
secured  for  him  at  one  of  the  big 
frontier  posts  along  the  railway. 


22  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

Fred  was  the  pride  of  the  old 
soldier's  heart,  and  nothing-  would 
do  but  that  he,  too,  must  be  a 
trooper.  The  boy  was  born  far 
out  across  the  plains  in  sight  of 
the  Chihuahua  Mountains,  had 
fellowed  the  regiment  in  his 
mother's  arms  up  the  valley  of  the 
Rio  Grande  to  the  Albuquerque, 
then  eastward  along  the  Indian- 
haunted  Smoky  Hill  route  to 
Leavenworth.  When  the  great 
war  burst  upon  the  nation  little 
Fred  was  just  beginning  to  toddle 
about  the  whitewashed  walls  of  the 
laundresses'  quarters — his  father 
was  Corporal  Waller  then — and 
his  baby  eyes  were  big  as  saucers 
when  he  was  carried  aboard  of  a 
big  steamship  and  paddled  down 
the  muddy  Missouri  and  around 


A    DANGEROUS  MISSION.  23 

by  Cairo  and  up  the  winding  Ohio 
to  Cincinnati.  He  was  even  more 
astonished  at  the  railway  cars 
that  bore  the  soldiers  and  a  few 
women  and  children  eastward  and 
finally  landed  them  at  Carlisle. 
There  at  the  old  cavalry  barracks 
the  little  fellow  grew  to  lusty  boy 
hood,  while  his  father  was  bear 
ing  the  blue  and  gold  standard 
through  battle  after  battle  on  the 
Virginia  soil.  And  when  the  war 
was  over  and  the  regiment  was 
hurried  out  to  "the  plains,"  and 
again  to  protect  the  settlers,  the 
emigrants,  and  the  railway 
builders  from  the  ceaseless 
assaults  of  the  painted  Indians, 
little  Fred  went  along,  and  his 
soldier  education  was  fairly  begun. 
Old  Waller  was  now  first  ser- 


24  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

geant  of  "B"  troop.  The  regi 
mental  commander  and  most  of 
the  officers  were  greatly  inter 
ested  in  the  laughing,  sun-tanned, 
blue-eyed  boy,  who  rode  day  after 
day  on  his  wiry  Indian  pony  along 
the  flanks  of  the  column,  scorning, 
though  barely  seven  years  old,  to 
stay  in  the  wagons  with  the 
women  and  children.  Every 
body  had  a  jolly  word  of  greeting 
for  Fred,  and  kind-hearted  Cap 
tain  Elaine  set  his  "  company 
tailor "  to  work,  and  presently 
there  was  made  for  the  boy  a 
natty  little  cavalry  jacket  and  a 
tiny  pair  of  yellow  chevrons. 
"  Corporal  Fred  "  they  called  him 
then,  and,  though  he  strove  hard 
not  to  show  it,  grim  old  Sergeant 
Waller  was  evidently  as  proud 


A   DANGEROUS  MISSION.  25 

and  pleased  as  the  child.  He 
taught  the  little  man  to  "  stand 
attention  "  and  bring  up  his 
chubby  brown  hand  in  salute 
whenever  an  officer  passed  by,  and 
most  scrupulously  was  that  salute 
returned.  He  early  placed  the 
boy  under  the  instruction  oP  the 
veteran  chief  trumpeter,  and  made 
him  practice  with  the  musicians  as 
soon  as  he  was  "  big  enough  to 
blow,"  as  he  expressed  it.  And 
then,  too  (for  there  were  no  army 
schools,  or  schoolmasters  in  those 
days),  regularly  as  the  day  came 
round  and  the  sergeant's  morning 
duties  were  done,  he  had  his  boy 
at  his  knee,  book  or  slate  in  hand, 
patiently  teaching  him  the  little 
that  he  knew  himself,  and  wistfully 
looking  for  some  better  instructor. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    OATH    OF    ENLISTMENT. 

T  was  while  stationed  at  old 
Fort  Sanders  that  Waller's 
enthusiastic  devotion  to  his  new 
captain  and  his  captain's  family 
began.  The  former  troop  com 
mander  was  ordered  to  the  retired 
list,  broken  down  by  wounds,  and 
the  senior  lieutenant  stepped  into 
his  place.  Waller  bade  farewell 
to  his  old  captain  with  tear- 
dimmed  eyes — they  had  served  to 
gether  for  over  fifteen  years — and 
with  much  inward  misgiving,  but 


THE  OATH  OF  ENLISTMENT.      27 

not  the  faintest  outward  show 
thereof,  saluted  the  new  arrival, 
a  young  officer  but  a  soldier 
through  and  through  ;  it  was  not  a 
week  before  the  sergeant  had  fully 
satisfied  himself  as  to  that.  Pres 
ently  the  new  captain's  family 
reached  the  fort  and  took  up  their 
abode  ;  a  fair-haired,  blue-eyed 
young  mother  with  two  children, 
a  boy  and  a  girl,  the  eldest  being 
three  years  younger  than  Fred  ; 
and  then  began  another  and 
strong  interest. 

That  very  winter  scarlet  fever 
devastated  the  fort.  Few  chil 
dren  escaped  the  scourge.  There 
were  a  dozen  little  graves  in  the 
cemetery  out  on  the  prairie  when 
the  long  winter  came  to  an  end. 
There  were  two  or  three  larger 


28  TRUMPETER   FRED. 

graves,  and  one  of  these  held  all 
that  was  mortal  of  Fred's  loving 
mother  ;  he  and  his  stern,  sad- 
faced  father  were  now  alone  in 
the  world. 

And  Captain  Charlton's  little 
household  had  not  been  spared. 
It  was  among  the  officers'  quarters 
that  the  pestilence  had  first 
appeared.  Frank  and  Florence 
Charlton  were  among  the  children 
earliest  stricken.  The  servants 
fled  the  house,  as  frontier  servants 
will,  and  their  place  was  promptly 
supplied  by  Mrs.  Waller.  She 
and  her  husband  would  listen  to 
no  remonstrance,  and  Mrs.  Charl 
ton,  overwhelmed  with  care  and 
dread,  was  only  too  glad  to  have 
the  strong,  cheery  army  woman's 
help.  Over  the  little  brown  cot- 


THE  OATH  OF  ENLISTMENT.      29 

tage  the  shadow  of  death  hovered 
for  days  before  it  was  lifted  and 
borne  away,  and  when  at  last  all 
danger  was  over  and  all  was  again 
all  hope  and  peace  the  sergeant's 
wife  went  back  to  her  own  humble 
roof  across  the  parade,  and  there 
suddenly  sickened  and  died. 
When  the  scourge  was  finally 
swept  from  the  garrison  and  the 
soft  winds  began  to  blow  from  the 
South,  the  stricken  old  soldier  was 
glad  of  the  chance  to  go  with  his 
troop  into  the  field-service,  and 
was  almost  happy  in  one  thing. 
Mrs.  Charlton  had  taken  his  boy 
as  one  of  her  own,  and  each  day 
she  was  teaching  him  faithfully 
and  well.  When  the  troop  rode 
away  from  Sanders  Fred  was  left 
behind  to  occupy  a  little  room 


30  TRUMPF.TER  FRED. 

under  the  captain's  roof.  "  Re 
member,  sir,  you  are  sergeant  of 
the  guard,  and  that  house  and  that 
household  are  your  special  charge 
for  all  summer  long,"  were  Wal 
ler's  parting  words  to  his  boy. 

Regularly  as  the  mail  reached 
the  troop  during  its  summer 
scouting  Captain  Charlton's  home 
missives  had  their  messages  for 
Sergeant  Waller  ;  and  soon,  to  his 
unspeakable  joy,  letters  all  his 
own,  addressed  in  a  round  boyish 
hand  that  grew  firmer  every  week, 
began  to  come  as  his  share  of  the 
welcome  package.  Never  would 
he  presume  to  ask  for  news,  yet 
the  captain  was  not  slow  to  notice 
how  old  WTaller  was  sure  to  be 
busy  close  at  hand  when  the  home 
letters  came,  and  prompt  to 


ADDRESSED    IN    A    BOUND    BOYISH 
HAND. 


THE  OATH  OF  ENLISTMENT.      31 

answer,  and  with  soldierly  salute 
to  stand  erect  before  his  young 
commander  and  strive  not  to  show 
the  pride  and  delight  that  tingled 
in  every  vein  at  the  glowing  words 
in  which  Mrs.  Charlton  told  of  his 
boy's  rapid  progress  and  his  devo 
tion  to  her  and  the  children.  His 
lip  would  quiver  uncontrollably 
and  his  eyes  fill ;  his  hand  might 
tremble  as  it  touched  the  brim  of 
his  scouting  hat,  but  the  salute 
was  precise  as  ever. 

"  I  thank  the  captain,  and  beg 
to  thank  the  captain's  kind  lady," 
was  his  invariable  formula  on  such 
occasions.  "  I  hope  the  boy  will 
always  do  his  duty." 

And  then  he  would  face  about 
and  stride  away  with  his  head  very 
high  in  the  air  and  his  eyes  blink- 


32  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

ing  hard,  and  almost  immediately 
his  voice  would  be  heard  sternly 
berating  some  trooper  whose  horse 
had  tangled  himself  in  his  lariat, 
or  whose  "  kit  "  was  not  stowed  in 
proper  shape  about  the  saddle. 
It  was  his  way  of  striving  to  hide 
the  joy  those  messages  brought 
him,  and  the  men  were  quick 
to  see  through  it  all,  and  little 
"  Reddy  "  Mulligan,  reprimanded 
for  the  third  time  within  a  fort 
night,  started  a  laugh  all  through 
the  bivouac  by  his  whimsical  pro 
test  : 

"  It's  more  good  news  you've 
been  getting  from  Fred,  sergeant, 
dear  ;  isn't  it  now  ?  Faith,  I  wish 
he'd  play  ye  a  thrick  wanst  in  a 
while,  like  other  byes.  Maybe 
thin  I'd  be  mintioned  to  the  cap- 


THE  OATH  OF  ENLISTMENT.      33 

tain  for  a  corporalship."  And  for 
once  the  veteran  turned  his  back 
on  the  laughing  troop  conscious 
of  defeat. 

In  '74  old  Waller  changed  the 
yellow  stripes  and  diamond  of  the 
first  sergeantcy  for  the  crimson 
and  the  star  of  the  ordnance,  and 
the  troopers,  one  and  all,  said 
good-by  to  him  with  infinite  re 
gret.  Perhaps  Dawson,  who  was 
next  in  rank,  may  be  excepted. 
He  confidently  expected  to  be 
promoted  in  Waller's  place.  But 
though  a  dashing  soldier  and  a 
smart  non-commissioned  officer,  he 
was  not  the  stanch,  reliable  man 
the  captain  needed,  and  proved  it 
by  celebrating  Waller's  promotion 
in  a  very  boisterous  and  unseemly 
manner.  It  was  plain  that  he 


34  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

had  been  drinking  heavily,  and 
though  Captain  Charlton  saved 
him  from  arrest  and  court-martial 
he  would  not  promote  him,  and 
plainly,  though  privately,  told  him 
why.  The  troop  knew  it  was  for 
this  reason,  but  Dawson  swore  it 
was  all  on  account  of  Waller's  in 
fluence  against  him  when  Sergeant 
Graham  was  named  in  regimental 
orders  as  the  old  veteran's  suc 
cessor. 

That  same  summer,  with  firm 
hand  and  glistening  eyes,  Waller 
signed  his  consent  to  the  enlist 
ment  of  his  son  as  trumpeter  in 
the  old  troop.  How  he  watched 
the  boy's  glowing  face  as  the  oath 
of  enlistment,  so  often  lightly 
spoken,  was  solemnly  repeated, 
and  Fred  was  bound  to  the  serv- 


THE   OATH  OF  ENLISTMENT.      35 

ice  of  his  country.  How  he 
trembled  from  head  to  foot  when, 
but  a  few  weeks  afterward  and  in 
the  dead  of  night,  Charlton  and 
his  men  hurried  forth  to  inter 
cept  a  band  of  Indians  who  had 
swooped  down  upon  the  herders 
south  of  Laramie  Peak.  Waller 
could  hardly  buckle  the  cantle- 
straps  of  Fred's  saddle  as  the 
little  fellow,  all  eagerness,  was 
bustling  about  his  horse  in  the 
dim  light  of  the  stable  lanterns. 
Yet  when  the  captain  and  Lieu 
tenant  Rayburn  came  trotting 
briskly  down  the  roadway  and  the 
men  were  silently  "  leading  into 
line,"  it  was  the  old  sergeant's 
hand  that  grasped  the  boy's  left 
foot  and  swung  him  lightly  into 
his  seat. 


36  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

"  Whatever  happens,  sir,  mind 
you  keep  close  to  the  captain," 
was  his  parting  injunction  to  his 
boy.  Then  his  heels  came  to 
gether  with  the  old  cavalry  "  click" 
and  his  twitching  fingers  were 
stiffened  as  they  went  suddenly 
up  in  salute  to  Mr.  Rayburn,  who 
bent  down  from  his  saddle  to  say 
that  they  would  try  and  take  good 
care  of  Fred.  .  But  Waller  an 
swered  : 

"  I  thank  the  lieutenant.  The 
boy  is  a  soldier  now,  sir.  He 
must  take  his  chances  with  the 
rest."  Then  with  one  lingering 
clasp  of  the  trumpeter's  hand, 
"Join  your  captain,"  he  ordered, 
and  turned  away  into  the  darkness. 
•  But  the  sentry  on  No.  6  bore 
witness  to  the  fact  that  the  ord- 


THE  OATH  OF  ENLISTMENT.      37 

nance  sergeant  never  went  to  bed 
again  all  that  night,  and  the  men 
sent  to  unload  and  store  the  am 
munition  that  came  next  day  from 
Rock  Island  Arsenal  declared  that 
old  Waller  was  gruffer  than  ever. 

o 

All  the  next  night  too,  he  was 
awake,  waiting,  watching  for  tid 
ings  from  the  North.  Nothing 
came  until  sunset  of  the  second 
day,  just  as  the  whole  command 
was  turning  out  for  retreat  parade, 
and  then  Corporal  Rock  rode 
in  with  dispatches  and  trotted 
straight  to  where  the  commanding 
officer  was  standing  in  front  of 
the  adjutant's  office.  All  eyes 
were  upon  him  as  he  threw  him 
self  from  the  saddle  and  handed 
the  packet  to  the  colonel.  Half 
a  dozen  officers  hastened  to  join 


38  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

their  commander  as  he  tore  it 
open.  The  piazzas  of  the  officers' 
quarters  were  quickly  alive  with 
ladies  and  children,  breathlessly 
eager  to  hear  the  news.  The  colo 
nel's  orderly  was  seen  hastening 
to  the  surgeon's  house  —  that 
looked  ominous  --  then  Rock 
remounted  ;  trotted  to  Captain 
Charlton's  gate,  where  Mrs.  Charl- 
ton  was  tremblingly  awaiting  him. 
"  It's  all  right,  ma'am,"  he  hastened 
to  say.  "  Leastwise  the  captain's 
safe,  but  Mulligan  is  shot — and 
Ryan  and  Sergeant  Frazer."  She 
hurried  in  the  house  with  the 
precious  letter  he  placed  in  her 
hands,  and  while  several  ladies 
hastened  to  join  her,  the  messen 
ger  returned  to  the  office. 

All  this  while  Sergeant   Waller 


THE   OATH  OF  ENLISTMENT.      39 

had  stood  like  a  statue  under  the 
tall  white  flag-staff  where  the  non 
commissioned  staff  assembled  at 
retreat,  watching  every  move  with 
dry,  aching  eyes,  and  a  face  gray 
as  his  mustache. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A    ROBBER    IN    CAMP. 

HE  trumpet  played  the  re 
treat,  the  sunset  gun  thun 
dered  its  good-night  to  the  god  of 
day ;  the  adjutant  hurried  over 
and  received  the  reports  of  the 
companies,  the  staff,  and  band,  and 
then  a  messenger  came  running  to 
them  :  "  Mrs.  Charlton  wants  you, 
Sergeant  Waller.  Fred's  all  safe, 
but  they  had  a  sharp  fight." 

The  old  man  could  not  trust 
himself  to  speak.  "  Listen  to  this, 
sergeant,"  exclaimed  M'rs.  Charl- 


A    ROBBER   IN  CAMP.  4r 

ton,  as  she  hurried  through  the 
little  group  of  ladies  at  her  door 
way,  and  looked  up  in  his  face 
with  tear-dimmed  eyes  : 

"Tell  Waller  that  in  a  running 
fiofhtof  four  miles  Fred  rode  close 

o 

at  my  heels  and  no  man  could  have 
shown  more  spirit  or  less  fear.  I 
am  sure  it  was  a  shot  from  his  car 
bine  that  tumbled  one  war  pony 
into  the  Laramie ;  and  every  call 
he  had  to  sound  rang  out  clear 
as  a  bell.  I'm  proud  of  the 
boy." 

Waller's  face  was  twitching  and 
working ;  he  cleared  his  throat 
and  tried  to  speak ;  he  dashed  his 
hand  across  his  eyes  and  ground 
his  heels  into  the  gravel  of  the 


42  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

walk ;  he  heard  the  kind  and 
gentle  voices  of  the  ladies  joining 
in  the  chorus  of  congratulation, 
but  he  could  not  see  their  faces  ;  a 
mist  had  risen  before  his  eyes. 
Even  the  old  formula,  "  I  thank 
the  captain's  lady,"  had  deserted 
him.  He  mumbled  some  inarticu 
late  words,  and  then,  in  dread 
of  disastrous  breakdown,  turned 
suddenly  away  and  strode  across 
the  drive.  More  than  one  woman 
was  in  tears.  There  was  not  a 
ripple  of  faintest  laughter  when  it 
was  seen  that  in  his  blindness  the 
old  sergeant  had  collided  with 
the  tree  box  at  the  edge  of  the.-* 
acequia.  Straight  to  his  humble 
quarters  he  went ;  but  they  were 
beautiful  to  him,  radiant  with  the 
light  of  joy,  pride,  gratitude,  and 


A   ROBBER  IN  CAMP.  43 

love  that  beamed  and  burnt  in  his 
honest  heart. 

And  now,  a  year  later,  all  the 
cavalry  was  in  the  field.  Gold 
had  tempted  explorers  and  miners 
innumerable  to  the  Black  Hills  of 
Dakota — Indian  land  by  solemn 
treaty.  The  Government  warned 
the  invaders  back,  but  to  no  pur 
pose.  The  Indians  swarmed  from 
the  agencies  and  massacred  all 
whom  they  could  overpower. 
Charlton's  troop  had  early  been 
hurried  up  to  Red  Cloud,  and 
now  with  others  was  engaged  in 
the  perilous  work  of  patrolling  the 
trails  around  the  Indian  haunts. 

Two  months  of  hard  and  most 
exciting  work  had  they  had,  and 
still  the  troubles  were  not  over  ; 
and  then  just  after  the  paymaster 


44  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

with  his  iron  safe  and  bristling 
escort  had  paid  the  outlying  posts 
a  visit,  and  Captain  Charlton  had 
been  ordered  in  with  him  to 
attend  a  court-martial  at  Fort 
Laramie,  there  came  a  week  that 
no  man  in  "  B  "  troop  ever  forgot. 
Mr.  Rayburn  had  been  wounded 
and  was  in  the  hospital  at  Fort 
Robinson.  Twenty  of  the  men 
were  away  on  escort  duty,  and  so 
it  happened  that  only  young 
Lieutenant  Blunt  and  about  thirty 
troopers  were  left  at  the  camp  just 
west  of  the  Agency.  Fearful  that 
the  money,  "burning"  as  it  al 
ways  does  in  the  soldiers'  pockets, 
would  tempt  his  men  to  gamble  or 
drink  and  get  into  mischief  around 
the  crowded  post,  Charlton  had 
ordered  that  the  troop  should 


A    ROBBER   IN  CAMP.  45 

march  at  once  to  the  Niobrara 
and  wait  there  for  his  return.  It 
was  known,  of  course,  that  many 
Indian  bands  were  out,  and  it 
promised  to  be  adventurous.  It 
was  Mr.  Blunt's  first  independent 
command,  too,  and  he  felt  a  trifle 
nervous.  All  went  well,  however, 
until  the  morning  of  the  second 
day,  when  Sergeant  Graham  ex 
citedly  called  his  young  com 
mander,  his  face  clouded  with 
dismay. 

"  Lieutenant,"  he  cried,  "  Ser 
geant  Dawson  and  several  men 
were  robbed  last  night.  The 
money's  clean  gone  !  " 

Blunt  was  out  of  his  blanket  in 
an  instant.  "  How  much  is  miss 
ing  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I    can't  tell    yet,   sir — a   good 


46  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

deal.      But  that   is  not   the  worst 
of  it." 

"  What     on     earth     could     be 
worse  ?  " 

"  Trumpeter  Waller's  gone,  sir 
—deserted  ;  taken  his  horse,  arms, 
and  everything  !  " 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SUSPICIOUS    CIRCUMSTANCES. 

llEUTENANT  BLUNTS 
position  on  this  bright 
July  morning  was  most  embar 
rassing.  Personally  he  had 
known  the  pet  trumpeter  of  "  B  " 
troop  less  than  a  year ;  for,  as 
was  said  in  the  previous  chapter, 
in  point  of  actual  experience  on 
the  frontier  the  boy  was  the 
superior  of  the  young  West 
Pointer,  who  had  joined  only 
the  preceding  autumn.  Finding 
young  Fred  so  great  a  favorite 

47 


* 

4 8  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

among  the  officers  and  men,  Mr. 
,Blunt  was  quite  ready  to  accept 
the  general  verdict,  although  his 
first  impression  of  the  youngster 
was  that  he  was  a  trifle  spoiled. 
On  the  other  hand  no  other  man 
in  the  troop  had  so  favorably 
impressed  the  new  officer  as  the 
"  left  principal  guide,"  Sergeant 
Dawson,  whose  dashing  horse 
manship,  fine  figure  and  carriage, 
and  sharp,  soldierly  ways  had 
attracted  his  attention  at  the 
first  outset.  Then  Dawson's 
manner  to  him  was  so  scrupu 
lously  deferential  and  soldierly 
on  all  occasions — sometimes  the 
old  war-worn  sergeants  would  be 
a  trifle  supercilious  with  green 
subalterns — that  Blunt's  moderate 
amount  of  vanity  was  touched. 


* 
SUSPICIOUS  CIRCUMSTANCES.      49 

He  was  always  glad,  when  his 
turn  came  round  as  officer  of  the 
guard,  to  find  Sergeant  Dawson 
on  the  detail,  and  he  recalled, 
when  he  came  to  think  over  the 
events  of  his  first  half  year  with 
the  regiment  that  very  summer, 
that  it  was  when  on  guard  he 
began  to  imagine  Fred  Waller 
was  "  somewhat  spoiled."  Twice 
the  boy  "  marched  on  "  as  orderly 
trumpeter  when  he  and  Dawson 
were  on  the  guard  detail  for  the 
day,  and  both  times  the  sergeant 
had  found  fault  with  the  musician, 
and  had  most  respectfully  and 
diplomatically,  but  in  that  semi- 
confidential  manner  which  shrewd 
old  soldiers  so  well  know  how  to 
assume  to  very  young  subalterns, 
given  Mr.  Blunt  to  understand 


5°  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

that  the  boy  "  needed  looking 
after."  Months  later,  when  Blunt 
and  Rayburn  were  discussing  the 
probabilities  of  promotion,  when 
the  sergeant-major  of  the  regi 
ment  took  his  discharge  and  there 
was  lively  competition  among  the 
soldiers  for  this,  the  finest  non 
commissioned  post  in  the  regi 
ment,  Blunt  warmly  advocated 
Dawson's  claim.  "  He  is  the 
nattiest  sergeant  in  the  whole 
command,"  he  said,  "  and  the 
smartest  one  I  know." 

"  Oh,  yes!"  answered  Rayburn 
with  a  certain  superiority  of 
manner  and  a  quiet  sarcasm  that 
provoked  the  junior  officer  ; 
"  there's  no  question  about  Daw- 
son's  smartness.  One  after 
another  every  '  plebe  '  in  the 


SUSPICIOUS  CIRCUMSTANCES.      51 

regiment  starts  in  with  the  same 
enthusiasm  about  Dawson.  I 
had  it  myself  about  eight  years 
ago.  But  the  trouble  with  him 
is  he  isn't  a  stayer ;  he  can't 
stand  prosperity." 

But  Blunt  preferred  to  hold  to 
his  own  views  and  his  faith  in 
the  second  sergeant  of  the  troop. 
And  so  it  happened  that  on  this 
eventful  morning  he  sent  Ser 
geant  Graham  at  once  to  in 
vestigate  as  to  the  amounts 
stolen  during  the  night,  and 
directed  that  Sergeant  Dawson, 
who  was  in  command  of  the 
herd  and  picket  guard,  should 
come  to  him  immediately. 

The  sun  was  just  rising  above 
the  low  treeless  ridges  on  the  hori 
zon  as  the  lieutenant  stood  erect 


5 2  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

and  looked  about  him.  Close 
at  ha^nd  the  Niobrara  --  "  the 
Running  Water  "  —  was  brawl 
ing  over  its  stony  shallows,  and 
the  smoke  of  tiny  cook-fires  was 
floating  upward  into  the  keen, 
crisp,  morning  air.  Northward 
the  slopes  were  bare  and  treeless, 
too,  but  closely  carpeted  with  the 
dense  growth  of  buffalo  grass. 
Only  a  few  yards  out  from  the 
bivouac,  hoppled  and  sidelined, 
the  troop  horses  were  cropping 
the  still  juicy  herbage,  and  three 
or  four  soldiers,  carbine  in  hand 
and  garbed  in  their  light-blue 
overcoats,  were  posted  well  out 
beyond  the  herd  on  every  side, 
watching  the  valley  far  and  near 
for  any  signs  of  Indian  coming. 
Below  the  bivouac,  and  further 


SUSPICIOUS  CIRCUMSTANCES.      53 

from  the  Laramie  road,  was  an 
old  log  hut,  once  used  as  a  ranch 
and  "  bar "  for  thirsty  souls 
traversing  the  well-worn  way  to 
the  reservation  ;  but  the  tide  of 
travel  had  first  shifted  to  the 
Sidney  route,  and  then  been 
stemmed  entirely,  so  far  as  the 
line  to  or  near  the  agencies  was 
concerned,  and  the  proprietor 
had  taken  himself  and  his  fiery 
poison  to  better-paying  fields. 
Far  away  to  the  southwest  the 
blue  cone  of  Laramie  Peak  stood 
boldly  against  the  sky.  Nearer 
at  hand,  though  a  day's  ride  away, 
old  Rawhide  Butte  rose  sturdily 
from  the  midst  of  surrounding 
prairie  slopes.  Upstream,  among 
some  sparse  cottonwood,  a  bit  of 
ruddy  color  among  the  branches 


54  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

caught  the  lieutenant's  quick  eye. 
Some  Indian  brave,  wrapped  in 
his  blanket,  had  been  laid  to  rest 
there  out  of  reach  of  the  snarl 
ing  coyotes,  one  of  whom  could 
be  dimly  discerned  slinking  away 
under  the  bank,  just  out  of  easy 
rifle  range. 

Off  to  the  south  lay  the  same 
bold,  barren,  desolate-looking  ex 
panse  of  rolling  prairie.  Blunt 
could  not  suppress  a  shudder  as 
he  thought  of  the  terrible  risk  the 
boy  had  run  in  his  mad  break  for 
the  settlements  beyond  the  Platte. 
Of  course  he  could  go  nowhere 
else.  North,  east,  and  west,  all 
was  Indian  land,  and  no  lone 
white  man  could  live  there.  Of 
course  he  was  making  for  the 
cattle  ranges  and  settlements  in 


SUSPICIOUS   CIRCUMSTANCES.      55 

Nebraska.  Such  at  least  were 
the  lieutenant's  theories.  He 
had  spent  only  one  year  on  the 
frontier,  but  had  been  there  long 
enough  to  know  that  among  the 
cowboys,  ranchmen,  and  especially 
among  the  "riff-raff"  ever  hang 
ing  about  the  small  towns  and 
settlements,  a  deserter  from  the 
army  was  apt  to  be  welcomed  and 
protected,  if  he  had  money,  arms, 
or  a  good  horse.  Once  plundered 
of  all  he  possessed,  the  luckless 
fellow  might  then  be  turned  over 
to  the  nearest  post  and  the 
authorized  reward  of  thirty  dollars 
Claimed  for  his  apprehension  ;  but 
if  well  armed  and  sober,  the  de 
serter  had  little  trouble  in  making 
his  way  through  the  toughest  min 
ing  camps  and  settlements. 


CHAPTER  V. 

TRAILING    THE    TRAITOR. 

RED  Waller  knew  all  the 
Valley  of  the  North  Platte 
as  well  as  he  did  the  trails  around 
Sanders  and  Red  buttes,  and 
if  he  could  succeed  in  eluding 
the  Indian  war  parties,  he  would 
have  no  difficulty  in  fording  the 
river,  or  swimming  if  necessary ; 
and,  with  the  start  he  must  have 
had,  his  light  weight,  and  power 
ful  horse,  it  would  be  next  to  im 
possible  to  catch  him,  even  if  they 

could    follow    his    trail.     Besides, 

56 


TRAILING    THE    TRAITOR.  57 

were  they  not  ordered  to  remain 
at  the  Niobrara  until  Charl- 
ton's  return?  The  more  Mr. 
Blunt  thought  of  the  matter 
the  more  worried  and  perplexed 
he  became.  Anywhere  else  he 
might  have  sent  a  sergeant  with  a 
couple  of  men  in  pursuit,  but  here 
it  would  be  exposing  them  to 
almost  certain  death.  It  was 
some  minutes  before  Sergeant 
Dawson  came  in  answer  to  the 
summons.  Blunt  could  see  the 
troopers  gathered  about  the  first 
sergeant,  excitedly  discussing  the 
affair  and  bemoaning  their  indi 
vidual  losses.  Graham  was  not 
ing  the  amounts  on  a  slip  of 
paper,  and  his  fine  face  was  pale 
with  distress.  "  Is  that  all  now, 
men  ?  "  he  asked  as  he  completed 


5 8  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

the  list,  then  sharply  turned  away, 
and  once  more  approached  his 
young  commander. 

"  Lieutenant,"  he  said,  halting 
and  raising  his  hand  in  salute,  "  it 
isn't  quite  so  bad  as  I  feared,  but 
bad  enough.  Sergeant  Farron, 
Corporal  Watts,  and  I  are  the 
principal  losers,  besides  Sergeant 
Dawson.  Three  of  the  men  who 
went  into  the  Agency  on  pass  just 
after  we  were  paid  had  left  most 
of  their  money  with  me,  and  that 
is  gone.  I  had  it  with  my  own  in 
the  flat  wallet  I  always  carried  in 
the  inside  pocket  of  my  hunting- 
shirt.  You  can  see,  sir,  how  it 
was  done,"  and  the  sergeant  dis 
played  a  long  clean  cut  through 
the  Indian  tanned  buckskin.  "It 
took  a  sharp  knife  and  a  light 


TRAILING    THE    TRAITOR.  59 

hand  to  do  that,  for  I'm  not  a 
heavy  sleeper.  Farron,  Watts, 
and  I  were  sleeping  side  by  side 
just  over  there  on  the  bank,  and 
they  heard  nothing  all  the  night. 
But  will  the  lieutenant  look  at 
this  handkerchief,  sir  ?  Is  it 
chloroformed  ?  I  feel  dull  and 
heavy,  as  though  I  had  been 
drugged.  He  couldn't  have  got 
it  from  me  any  other  way." 

Blunt  took  the  bandanna  and 
sniffed  it  cautiously,  and  then 
turned  it  over  and  curiously  in 
spected  it,  There  was  certainly 
an  odor  of  chloroform  about  it— 
a  strong  odor. 

"Whose  is  this?"  he  asked. 
"  I  do  not  remember  seeing  any  of 
the  men  wearing  one  like  this." 

"  None  of  them  own  it,  sir.     I've 


60  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

asked  the  whole  party  but  Ser 
geant  Dawson  and  the  men  on 
guard.  They  have  these  cheap 
red  things  for  sale  at  the  store 
there  at  the  Red  Cloud  Agency, 
but  none  of  the  troop  have  I  ever 
seen  wearing  them  ;  they  are  too 
small  for  neck  handkerchiefs. 
Dawson  is  out  yet,  trying  to  locate 
the  trail.  I've  sent  Robbins  for 
him,"  and  the  sergeant  looked 
anxiously  away  southward,  search 
ing  the  prairie  with  a  world  of 
pain  and  trouble  in  his  eyes. 

"  What  could  possibly  have  in 
duced  the  boy  to  turn  scoundrel 
all  at  once  ?"  asked  the  lieutenant. 
"It  will  break  his  old  father's 
heart." 

"  I  can't  account  for  it,  sir.  He 
has  been  as  honest  and  square  as  a 


TRAILING    THE    TRAITOR.  6 1 

boy  could  be  ever  since  his  enlist 
ment  ;  but  the  men  tell  me  that  he 
has  been  spending  a  good  deal  of 
time  over  in  the  post  whenever  we 
camped  there,  and  I  am  afraid, 
from  what  Donovan  says,  that  he 
has  been  gambling  with  the  young 
fellows  at  the  band  quarters. 
There's  a  hard  lot  in  there,  I'm 
told  ;  and  the  old  hands  encourage 
the  boys  to  get  all  they  can  out  of 
strangers,  and  then  they  turn  to 
and  fleece  the  boys.  It  is  about 
four  hundred  dollars  he  has  taken. 
A  man  knows  that  will  last  but  a 
little  while  on  the  frontier,  but  to 
a  boy  it  seems  a  big  pile." 

Then,  rapidly  approaching,  the 
bounding  hoofs  of  a  troop  horse 
were  heard.  Blunt  eagerly  turned 
and  saw  Sergeant  Dawson  gallop- 


62  TRUMPETER   FRED. 

ing  toward  them  down  the  north 
bank.  Reining  in  so  suddenly  as 
almost  to  throw  his  panting  bay. 
upon  his  haunches,  he  vaulted 
lightly  to  the  ground  and  stood  be 
fore  the  lieutenant,  his  face  beaded 
with  sweat  and  his  eyes  glaring. 

"Which  way  has  he  gone? 
could  you  tell?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  trailed  him  out 
across  the  prairie  yonder  for  three 
hundred  yards  or  so.  Then  he 
took  the  Laramie  road,  and  there 
the  hoof  tracks  are  all  confused ; 
but  I  knew  he  would  never  keep 
that  line  very  long,  and  I'm  almost 
certain  I  found  the  place  where 
he  turned  off — a  mile  beyond  the 
ford  and  well  over  the  bluffs." 

"  Turned  south  toward  the  Sid 
ney  route  ?" 


TRAILING    THE    TRAITOR.  63 

"  Yes,  sir,  as  though  he  was  go 
ing  to  skirt  the  road  a  while,  then 
make  for  Scott's  Bluffs,  keeping 
well  west  of  the  Sidney  stage  route. 
If  he  got  on  that  he'd  be  likely  to 
meet  Captain  Forrest's  troop,  sir." 

"  But  you  were  in  charge  of  the 
guard,  sergeant.  How  came  it 
that  your  sentries  and  you  could 
let  a  man  slip  out  with  his  horse 
and  everything  ?  The  night  was 
still,  and  they  ought  to  have 
heard,  even  if  they  couldn't  see." 

"It  was  dark  as  pitch,  lieuten 
ant  ;  the  new  moon  was  down 
before  eleven  o'clock  ;  and  as  for 
hearing,  the  horses  were  uneasy 
and  stamping  or  snorting  all  the 
while  from  midnight  until  two 
o'clock.  Either  they  sniffed  In 
dians,  or  the  coyotes  startled  them. 


64  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

Then,  the  stream  makes  such  a 
noise  over  the  rocks,  sir  ;  and  the 
lieutenant  will  remember  we  had 
no  sentries  out  across  the  stream. 
The  Indians  couldn't  stampede  the 
herd  from  that  direction." 

"  But  how  could  he  get  his  horse 
out  from  the  herd  without " 

"  It  wasn't  there,  sir,"  broke  in 
the  trooper,  eager  to  defend  him 
self  against  the  imputation  of  care 
lessness  or  neglect.  "  Sergeant 
Graham  will  bear  me  out,  sir, 
that  Trumpeter  Waller  has  been 
allowed  to  lariat  his  horse  close 
by  where  he  slept,  and  some 
times  he'd  loop  the  lariat  by  a 
light  cord  to  his  wrist.  The  cap 
tain  allowed  it,  sir,  and  I  supposed 
that  the  lieutenant  would  not 
care  to  change  the  captain's 


TRAILING    THE    TRAITOR.  65 

orders.  Last  night  he  slept,  or 
rather  made  down  his  blanket  and 
drove  his  picket-pin  at  the  lower 
edge  of  the  bivouac,  sir,  down 
there  by  that  point ;  and  Private 
Donovan  tells  me  he  moved  still 
further  down  after  dark.  We 
could  hear  his  horse  whinnying  a 
while — he  didn't  like  being  so  far 
from  the  others.  It's  my  belief, 
sir,  he  waited  until  all  was  quiet, 
and  took  some  time  when  I  was 
out  on  the  prairie  visiting  the  sen 
tries  to  slip  up  the  bank  to  where 
Sergeant  Graham  was  sleeping, 
make  his  haul  of  the  money,  and 
then  ride  for  all  that  he  was  worth 
as  soon  as  he  had  got  beyond  ear 
shot.  It  was  easy  enough  to  slip 
away  through  the  stream  without 
being  heard." 


66  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

"  He  has  left  his  saddle-bags, 
blanket,  and  everything  that  was 
heavy,  except  his  arms,  behind 
him,"  said  Graham  moodily. 

"And  you  really  think  that  he 
has  stolen  the  money  and  is  try 
ing  to  escape  ? "  questioned  the 
lieutenant. 

"  Indeed,  sir,"  answered  Dawson 
almost  tearfully,  "  I  don't  know 
what  to  think.  I  hate  to  believe 
it  of  the  boy  we  were  all  so  fond 
of,  though  I  used  to  plague  him 
sometimes,  just  in  fun — but  I  don't 
know  what  else  to  think.  The 
men  say  that  he  has  been  a  little 
wild  at  times,  since  he  got  from 
under  the  old  man's  care.  But  I 
don't  know,  sir ;  I  wouldn't  be  apt 
to  know  what  was  going  on  in  the 
barrack  there  at  Robinson." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

CONCLUSIVE    EVIDENCE. 

LUNT  turned  sorrowfully 
away  and  began  to  pace 
slowly  up  and  down  the  bank. 
Near  at  hand  over  a  little  camp- 
fire  his  coffee  pot  was  bubbling  and 
hissing  enticingly,  but  even  the 
aroma  of  his  accustomed  morning 
beverage  failed  to  attract  him. 
What  was  he  to  do  ?  What  could 
he  do  ?  Ordered  to  remain  there 
to  escort  the  captain  safely  to  Red 
Cloud,  on  his  return  from  the 

court,  it  was  impossible  to  pursue. 

67 


68  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

Equally  unwise  would  it  be  to 
send  a  small  squad.  Waller  had 
taken  his  life  in  his  hands  when  he 
rode  away  through  the  night,  but 
he  could  cross  the  Rawhide  and 
be  in  comparative  safety,  so  far  as 
the  Indian  attack  was  concerned, 
by  sunrise  of  this  day.  Now  that 
daylight  had  come,  Blunt  well 
knew  that  every  stretch  of  prairie 
from  the  Platte  to  the  White 
River  would  be  thoroughly 
searched  by  keen  and  eager  eyes, 
and  death  would  be  the  very  least 
that  any  small  party  of  whites 
could  expect.  He  knew  perfectly 
well  that  already  he  and  his  little 
troop  were  being  closely  scruti 
nized  from  the  distant  ridges. 
Had  he  not  seen  in  the  tepees 
of  the  Cheyennes,  but  the  week 


CONCLUSIVE  EVIDENCE.  69 

before,  as  many  as  three  pairs  of 
binocular  field-glasses  ?  and  had 
not  Colonel  Randall  told  him 
they  knew  their  use  and  value 
as  well  as  anyone?  If  there  was 
only  some  way  of  getting  word 
to  Captain  Charlton  at  Laramie. 
There  ran  the  single  wire  of  the 
military  telegraph,  but  there  was 
neither  office  nor  station  nearer 
than  Red  Cloud  Agency.  No 
man  in  the  troop  would  thank  him 
for  being  ordered  to  go  either 
way  with  dispatches,  though  he 
knew  the  order  would  be  obeyed. 
Silently  and  gloomily,  instead  of 
with  their  usual  cheery  alacrity, 
the  men  had  got  to  work  with 
their  curry-combs  and  brushes  and 
were  touching  up  their  horses 
while  waiting  for  their  own  break-  . 


7°  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

fast ;  and  presently  Blunt's 
orderly  came  forward,  holding  a 
tin  cup  of  steaming  coffee. 

"  Won't  the  lieutenant  drink  a 
little  of  this,  sir,  and  try  a  bite  of 
bacon?  There  isn't  much  appe 
tite  in  the  troop  this  morning,  sir, 
but  it  aint  so  much  because  the 
money's  gone.  I've  known  the  old 
sergeant  and  the  boy  nigh  unto 
ten  years  now,  sir,  an'  I  never 
thought  it  would  come  to  this." 

Blunt  thanked  the  soldier  and 
sat  down  at  the  edge  of  the  rush 
ing  stream,  sipping  his  coffee  and 
trying  to  think  what  to  do.  The 
drink  warmed  his  blood  and 
cheered  him  up  a  trifle.  Order 
ing  his  horse  to  be  saddled,  he 
mounted  and,  taking  his  rifle,  rode 
through  the  Niobrara  and  out 


CONCLUSIVE   EVIDENCE.  7 1 

upon  the  open  prairie  on  the  other 
side.  It  was  not  long  before  he 
found  the  hoof-tracks  made  the 
night  before,  and,  without  knowing 
why,  he  slowly  followed  them  out 
toward  the  low  ridge  at  the  south 
west.  For  ten  minutes  he  went  at 
a  quiet  walk  and  with  downward- 
searching  eyes  as  he  reached  the 
road,  striving  to  decide  which  hoof- 
prints  were  made  by  Waller's  horse. 
Suddenly,  back  at  camp  he 
heard  the  ringing  report  of  a 
cavalry  carbine  borne  on  the  ris 
ing  breeze,  and,  whirling  about,  saw 
that  they  were  signaling  to  him- 
Putting  spurs  to  his  steed  he 
galloped  full  tilt  for  the  ford,  and 
then  for  the  first  time  saw  the 
cause  of  the  excitement.  Far  up 
on  the  opposite  slope,  and  jogging 


72  TRUMPETER   FRED. 

easily  down  toward  the  troop,  came 
an  Indian  pony  and  an  Indian 
rider,  but  not  in  war-paint  and 
feathers.  As  Mr.  Blunt  plunged 
through  the  stream  he  recognized 
the  young  half-breed  scout  known 
to  all  of  the  soldiers  as  "  Little 
Bat,"  and  Bat,  without  a  word,  rode 
up  and  handed  him  a  letter.  It 
was  from  the  commanding  officer 
at  Fort  Robinson,  and  very  much 
to  the  point.  It  read  somewhat 
as  follows : 

"  Captain  Charlton  telegraphs 
that  he  will  be  detained  several 
days.  Meantime  you  are  needed 
here,  as  the  Indians  are  again 
quitting  the  reservations  in  large 
numbers.  Move  immediately  up 
on  receipt  of  this." 


JOGGING  ALONG  AT  AN  EASY  PAC1 


CONCLUSIVE  EVIDENCE.  73 

That  evening  therefore  the  little 
troop  once  more  rode  down  the 
valley  of  the  White  River,  the 
"Smoking  Earth  "  as  the  Indians 
called  it,  and  by  sunset  were 
camped  at  Red  Cloud.  In  much 
distress  of  mind  Mr.  Blunt  called 
upon  the  commanding  officer  to 
tell  him  of  the  disappearance  of 
the  money  and  his  trumpeter,  and 
to  ask  the  colonel's  advice  as  to 
the  proper  course  for  him  to  pur 
sue.  It  was  agreed  that  telegrams 
should  be  sent  at  once  to  the  cap 
tain  at  Fort  Laramie  and  to  the 
commanding  officer  at  Sidney  bar 
racks  on  the  railway,  notifying 
them  of  the  crime  and  the  deser 
tion.  Blunt  begged  for  a  mo 
ment's  delay  until  he  could  hear 
from  Sergeant  Graham,  whom  he 

O 


74  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

had  sent  to  make  certain  investi 
gations,  and  long  before  tattoo  the 
sergeant  came — and  with  him  the 
hospital  steward. 

"  Lieutenant,  the  store-keeper 
says  he  sold  just  such  a  handker 
chief  as  that  to  Trumpeter  Waller 
last  week,  and  the  steward  can  tell 
about  the  chloroform." 

Both  officers  looked  inquiringly 
at  the  steward. 

"  Yes,  sir,  it  was  pay  day  that 
young  Waller  handed  me  a  pen 
ciled  note  from  Sergeant  Graham, 
saying  that  he  had  a  bad  tooth 
ache  and  asking  for  a  little  chloro 
form,  and  I  gave  it  to  him." 

•'  I  never  wrote  such  a  note,  sir, 
and  never  sent  him  on  such  a 
message,"  said  Graham. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

TELEGRAPHIC    DISPATCHES. 

AD  news  travels  fast.  Cap 
tain  Charlton  at  Fort 
Laramie  was  stunned  by  the 
tidings  flashed  to  him  by  tele 
graph  from  Red  Cloud.  Despite 
the  array  of  damaging  evidence, 
he  could  not  bring  himself  to 
believe  that  Fred  Waller  was  a 
thief :  but  he  was  sore  at  heart 
when  he  thought  of  the  misery 
and  sorrow  the  news  must  bring 
to  the  dear  ones  at  his  army 
home — above  all  to  the  proud  old 
sergeant,  whose  life  seemed  al- 


76  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

most  bound  up  in  the  boy.  Well 
knowing  that  it  could  only  be  a 
day  or  two  before  the  story  would 
make  its  way  to  the  posts  along 
the  railroad,  and  would  reach 
Sanders,  doubtless,  in  a  more 
exaggerated  form,  the  captain  de 
cided  to  warn  his  wife  at  once, 
and  by  the  stage  leaving  that  very 
night  a  letter  went  in  to  Chey 
enne,  and  thence  by  train  over  the 
great  "  divide  "  of  the  Rockies  to 
Fort  Sanders,  giving  to  Mrs. 
Charlton  all  particulars  thus  far 
received,  but  charging  her  to  say 
nothing  until  further  tidings. 

"  I  cannot  believe  it  [wrote  he], 
and  am  going  at  once  to  join  the 
troop  and  make  full  investigation. 
Meantime  I  have  written  by  the 


TELEGRAPHIC  DISPATCHES.        77 

same  mail  to  Major  Edwards, 
who  commands  at  Sidney  bar 
racks,  to  make  every  effort  to 

j 

trace  the  boy,  should  he  have 
come  south  of  the  Platte  ;  and  you 
must  be  sure  to  see,  when  the 
news  reaches  Sanders,  that  the  ser 
geant  is  assured  of  my  disbelief  in 
the  whole  story,  and  of  my  deter 
mination  that  Fred  shall  have  jus 
tice  done  him.  It  will  be  several 
days  before  you  can  hear  from  me 
again." 

And  the  news  reached  Sanders, 
as  he  feared,  all  too  soon.  Tele 
graph  offices  "  leaked "  on  the 
frontier  in  those  days.  The  oper 
ators  at  the  military  stations  were 
all  enlisted  men,  who  were  not 
bound  by  the  regulations  of  the 


78  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

Western  Union,  and  who  could 
not  keep  to  themselves  every  item 
of  personal  interest.  The  Sidney 
office  wired  mysterious  inquiries 
to  Sanders ;  Sanders  insisted  on 
knowing  what  it  meant,  and  pres 
ently  Laramie,  Sanders,  Sidney, 
Russell,  Red  Cloud,  and  even  Chug 
Water  were  clicking  away  in  con 
fidential  discussion  over  the  ex 
traordinary  theft  and  flight.  And 
Mrs.  Charlton's  letter  came  none 
too  early  to  save  old  Waller  from 
despair.  It  was  a  woman,  a  gab 
bling  laundress,  who  first  told  him 
of  the  rumor,  and  Mrs.  Charlton 
saw  him  hastening  to  the  tele 
graph  office  just  as  she  had 
finished  reading  the  letter. 

"  Mr.  Nelson,  quick  !  "  she  called 
to  a  young  officer  just  passing  the 


*      TELEGRAPHIC  DISPATCHES.        79 

gate.  "  Stop  Sergeant  Waller  at 
once.  Don't  let  him  go  to  the 
office.  Make  him  come  here  to 
me.  He  will  hear  and  obey  you." 

And  Mr.  Nelson  touched  his 
cap,  leaped  lightly  across  the 
acequia,  and  his  powerful  young 
voice  was  heard  thundering,  "  Ser 
geant  Waller  !  "  in  peremptory 
tones  across  the  parade.  "  Ser 
geant  Waller ! "  echoed  a  half  dozen 
voices  as  the  loungers  on  barrack 
porches  took  up  the  cry,  "  Lieu 
tenant  Nelson  wants  you!"  and 
the  soldier  instinct  prevailed,  the 
old  man  turned  and  hastened 
toward  the  officers'  quarters. 

"  What  is  it,  Mrs.  Charlton," 
asked  Nelson.  "  Has  there  been 
another  fight?  Is  Fred  killed? 
It  will  break  the  old  man's  heart." 


8o  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Nelson  !  I  can't  tell 
you  about  it  yet  ! "  she  almost 
wailed.  "There's  bad  news,  and 
I'm  afraid  the  old  man  has  heard 
it.  Stay  here,  near  me  a  moment, 
can  you  ?  Oh,  look  at  his  face  ! 
Look  at  his  face  !  He  has  heard." 

White,  livid,  trembling  from 
head  to  foot,  the  old  soldier  hur 
ried  toward  the  young  officer  and 
dumbly  raised  his  hand  in  the 
mechanical  salute. 

"It  is  Mrs.  Charlton  who  wants 
you,  sergeant,"  said  Mr.  Nelson 
kindly.  "  Go  to  her,"  and  without 
a  word  the  veteran  passed  in  at 
the  gate. 

She  held  forth  her  hand,  her 
eyes  brimming  with  tears.  In 
stinctively  he  halted,  the  old  re 
spect  and  reverence  for  "  captain's 


HE    RAISED    HIS    I1AMJK    AND   PKBSSEl)  THh.M  Tu  Ills   K\ 


TELEGRAPHIC  DISPATCHES.        8 1 

lady  "  checking  the  wild  torrent  of 
grief  and  anxiety,  but  she  caught 
him  by  the  arm  and  led  him  won 
dering  and  submissive,  yet  over 
whelmed  with  cruel  dread,  into  her 
cool  and  darkened  parlor.  There, 
with  wild,  imploring  eyes,  the  old 
man  half  stretched  forth  two 
palsied  hands,  his  forage  cap  fall 
ing  unheaded  to  the  floor,  his 
whole  frame  shaking. 

"  Don't  give  way,  sergeant ; 
don't  believe  it !"  she  cried,  and  at 
her  first  words  a  look  as  of  horror 
came  into  the  stricken  old  face, 
and  the  hands  clasped  together  in 
piteous  appeal.  "  Listen  to  what 
the  captain  says.  ,  His  letter  has 
just  come,  and  I  was  sure,  when  I 
saw  you,  that  someone  had  told 
you  the  rumor.  Captain  Charl- 


82  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

ton  will  not  believe  a  word  of  it. 
He  was  at  Laramie  on  court-mar 
tial  or  it  would  not  have  hap 
pened.  He  has  hurried  back  to 
Red  Cloud  to  investigate,  and  he 
declares  that  Fred  •shall  have 
justice  done  him.  I'll  never  be 
lieve  it — never  !  Why,  we  would 
trust  him  with  anything  we 
owned." 

"  I — I  thank  the  captain.  I 
thank  Mrs.  Charlton,"  he  brokenly 
replied.  "  It's  stunned  like  I  am." 
He  raised  his  hands  and  pressed 
them  against  his  eyes,  and  one  of 
them  was  lowered  suddenly,  feebly 
groping  for  support.  She  seized 
his  arm  and  strove  to  lead  him  to 
a  sofa.  "  You  must  sit  down, 
sergeant,"  she  said. 

"No,  ma'am,  no  I"  he  protested. 


TELEGRAPHIC  DISPATCHES.        83 

straightening  himself  with  a 
violent  effort.  "  Now,  may  I  hear 
what  it  is  they  say  against  my 
boy,  ma'am  ?  I  want  every  word. 
Don't  be  afraid,  ma'am,  I  can 
bear  it." 

Then,  with  infinite  sympathy 
and  pity,  she  told  him,  softening 
every  detail,  suggesting  an  expla 
nation  for  every  circumstance  that 
pointed  to  his  guilt ;  and  all  the 
time  the  old  man  stood  there,  his 
eyes,  filled  with  dumb  anguish, 
fixed  upon  her  face,  his  hands 
clasped  together  as  though  in 
entreaty,  his  fingers  twitching 
nervously.  At  every  new  and 
damaging  detail,  condone  or  ex 
plain  it  though  she  would,  he 
shuddered  as  though  smitten  with 
a  sharp,  painful  spasm  ;  but  when 


84  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

it  came  to  Fred's  midnight  disap 
pearance — horse,  arms,  and  all — in 
the  heart  of  the  Indian  country, 
stealing  away  from  his  comrades 
in  the.  shadow  of  disgrace  and 
crime,  the  old  man  groaned  aloud 
and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 
Some  time  he  stood  there,  reeling, 
yet  resisting  her  efforts  to  draw 
him  to  a  seat.  She  pleaded  with 
him  hurriedly,  impulsively,  yet  he 
seemed  not  to  hear.  At  last  with 
one  long  shivering  sigh,  he  sud 
denly  straightened  up  and  faced 
her.  His  hands  fell  by  his  side, 
He  cleared  his  throat  and  strove 
to  speak  : 

"  You've    been     o-ood     to    me, 

o 

ma'am — so  good" — and  here  he 
choked,  and  for  a  moment  could 
not  go  on — "and  to  my  boy" — at 


TELEGRAPHIC  DISPATCHES.        85 

last  he  finished,  with  impulsive 
rush  of  words.  "I  know  how 
they're  sometimes  tempted.  I 
know  how,  more  than  once,  the 
little  fellow  would  be  led  away  by 
the  roughs  in  the  troop,  just  to 
worry  me ;  but  he  never  hid  a 
thing  from  me,  ma'am,  never ;  and 
if  he's  in  trouble  now  he  would 
tell  me  the  whole  truth,  even  if 
it  broke  us  both  down.  I'll  not 
believe  it  till  I  see  him,  ma'am  ; 
but  I  must  go — I  must  go  until  I 
find  my  boy." 

Blinded  with  tears,  Mrs.  Charl- 
ton  could  hardly  see  the  swaying, 
grief-bowed  old  soldier  as  he  left 
the  house  ;  but  Nelson  was  wait 
ing  close  at  hand,  and  stepped  for 
ward  and  took  his  place  by  the 
sergeant's  side. 


86  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

"  I  don't  know  what  the  trouble 
is,"  he  said,  "but  I'm  going  as  far 
as  the  headquarters  with  you,  and 
if  there  is  anything  on  earth  I 
can  do  to  help  you,  do  not  fail 
to  tell  me." 

That  night,  with  a  week's  fur 
lough  and  a  letter  from  his  post 
commander  to  Major  Edwards  at 
Sidney,  old  Sergeant  Waller  was 
jolting  eastward  in  the  caboose  of 
a  freight  train. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

LOYAL     FRIENDS. 

T  was  on  Friday  morning, 
at  daybreak,  that  the  deser 
tion  of  Trumpeter  Waller  was  re 
ported  to  Lieutenant  Blunt.  It 
was  Friday  night  that  the  tele 
grams  were  sent  to  Laramie  and 
that  Charlton's  letter  left  by  stage. 
It  was  Saturday  afternoon  just 
before  parade  that  the  mail  was 
distributed  at  Fort  Sanders  ;  and 
that  very  evening,  before  Major 
Edwards  had  received  and  had 
time  to  read  his  letter  from  the 


88  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

West,  the  sergeant  had  started  on 
his  long  and  fatiguing  journey. 
All  night  long  in  sleepless  misery 
he  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  caboose, 
occasionally  rising  and  tramping 
unsteadily  to  and  fro.  At  Chey 
enne  a  delay  of  half  an  hour 
occurred,  and  he  left  the  train  and 
paced  restlessly  up  and  down  the 
platform  under  the  freight  sheds. 
He  dared  not  go  down  to  the 
lighted  offices  and  the  crowded 
passenger  station  just  below  him. 
It  seemed  as  though  everyone 
knew  of  Fred's  story  by  this  time. 
He  could  see  the  gleam  of  forage 
cap  ornaments  and  the  glint  of 
army  buttons  among  the  people  at 
the  depot,  and  knew  there  were 
several  officers  and  soldiers  there. 
Never  before  had  he  known  what 


LOYAL  FRIENDS.  89 

it  was  to  shrink  from  facing  any 
man  on  earth  ;  but  to-night, 
though  he  almost  starved  for 
further  news  from  his  boy,  he 
could  not  bring  himself  to  meet 
them  and  ask. 

Along  toward  morning,  at  Pine 
Bluffs,  a  herdsman  got  aboard, 
and  what  he  had  to  say  was  of 
startling  interest.  Hitherto  the 

o 

Indian  war  parties  had  kept  well 
to  the  north  of  the  Platte,  "  but  " 
said  he,  "  ever  since  Friday  the 
Sidney  road  has  been  swarming 
with  them — both  sides  of  the  river 
— and  they  are  killing  everything 
white  they  can  lay  their  hands  on." 
"My  God!"  thought  Waller, 
"  and  Fred  must  be  in  the  very 
midst  of  them.  Better  so,"  he 
added,  "  if  indeed  he  can  be 


go  TRUAfPETER  FRED. 

guilty."  The  herder  had  evi 
dently  been  sorely  frightened  by 
all  he  heard,  and  he  was  hurrying 
to  Sidney  to  join  a  party  of  cattle 
men  who  were  camping  there. 
He  had  been  drinking  too,  and 
took  more  and  more  as  the  night 
wore  on,  and  became  maudlin  in 
his  talk.  It  was  nine  o'clock  on 
Sunday  morning  when  they 
reached  Sidney  station,  and  the 
first  thing  that  old  Waller  saw  was 
a  strong  concord  wagon  with  a 
four-mule  team  and  an  army 
driver.  Two  infantry  soldiers 
with  their  rifles  and  girt  with  car 
tridge-belts  were  standing  close  at 
hand.  Two  officers  were  stowing 
their  rifles  inside  the  wagon,  and 
an  orderly  was  strapping  the  tar 
paulin  over  the  light  luggage  in  the 


LOYAL   FRIENDS.  91 

"boot."  One  of  the  officers  the 
sergeant  knew  instantly — an  aid- 
de-camp  of  the  commanding 
general.  The  other  was  older  in 

o 

years  and  bore  on  his  cap  the 
insignia  of  the  staff.  The  younger 
officer  saw  him  before  he  could 
step  into  the  office,  and  Sergeant 
Waller  knew  it — knew  too,  with 
the  quickness  of  thought,  that  he 
had  heard  of  Fred's  disappearance 
and  presumable  crime.  He  could 
have  shrunk  from  meeting  his  su 
periors  in  the  shadow  of  this  bitter 
sorrow  and  disgrace.  Even  while 
he  could  not  accept  the  belief  that 
his  boy  was  actually  a  deserter 
and  a  thief,  he  knew  full  well  what 
other  men  must  think.  But  Cap 
tain  Cross  was  a  cavalryman  him 
self,  and  had  known  old  Waller 


92  TRUMPETED  FRED. 

for  years.  He  dropped  his  rifle, 
came  straight  forward,  and  took 
him  by  the  hand. 

"  Sergeant,  I  don't  believe  it  of 
your  boy  ;  I've  known  his  father 
too  long,"  was  all  he  said,  as  he 
pressed  the  veteran's  hand.  Poor 
old  Waller,  worn  with  anguish, 
long  vigil,  and  utter  lack  of  food 
of  any  kind,  was  now  so  weak  that 
he  could  only,  with  the  utmost 
difficulty,  choke  back  the  sobs 
that  shook  his  frame.  Speak  he 
dare  not ;  he  would  have  broken 
down.  Cross  led  him  to  the 
lunch  room  at  the  station  and 
made  him  swallow  a  cup  of  coffee, 
then  gently  questioned  him  as  to 
what  he  knew. 

"  We  go  at  once  to  Red  Cloud 
— Colonel  Gaines  and  I  —  and 


LOYAL    FRIENDS.  93 

mavbe   on    the   road    I    shall  hear 

j 

something  of  him.  Sergeant,  rest 
assured  your  son  shall  have  fair 
play,"  said  the  aid-de-camp,  as 
he  was  about  to  turn  away. 

"  But,  captain — I  beg  pardon, 
sir,"  broke  in  Waller  hurriedly,  in 
almost  the  first  words  he  had 
spoken.  "  Where  is  your  escort  ? 
Surely  you  won't  take  this  route 
without  one  ?" 

"  There  isn't  a  trooper  at 
Sidney,  sergeant.  We  have  a 
couple  of  infantrymen  in  the 
wasjon  and  another  on  a  mule. 

o 

That's  the  best  we  can  do,  and 
we've  got  no  time  to  spare.  We 
must  be  at  Red  Cloud  to-morrow, 
and  this  is  the  shortest  line." 

"But,  sir,  haven't  you  heard? 
The  Sioux  are  out  in  force  an<3 


94  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

all  along  the  road,  both  above 
and  below  the  Platte.  There's  a 
herder  on  the  train  \vho  told  us. 
He  got  aboard  at  Pine  Bluffs 
this  morning." 

"  I  can  hardly  believe  that," 
answered  Cross.  "  Captain  For 
rest  with  the  Grays  is  scouting 
south  of  Red  Cloud.  Captain 
Wallace  was  ordered  to  watch  the 
fords  along  the  Platte  on  this 
line ;  Captain  Charlton  is  out — 
or  at  least  the  whole  troop  has 
been,  and  there  are  three  more. 
Surely  Major  Edwards  would 
know  over  at  the  barracks,  if  the 
Indians  were  anywhere  between 
us  and  the  river, — we'll  get  an 
escort  from  Captain  Wallace  the 
other  side, — but  he  has  not  heard 
a  word." 


LOYAL   FRIENDS.  95 

"  But  I  beg  the  captain  to  hear 
what  the  man  says,  sir,"  urged 
Sergeant  Waller.  "  He's  been 
drinking,  but  he  tells  the  same 
story,  practically,  that  he  told  us 
when  he  got  aboard.  Let  me 
find  him,  sir." 

And  find  him  he  did,  even 
more  maudlin  and  thick-tongued 
by  this  time,  and  evidently  deter 
mined  to  make  the  most  of  his 
dramatic  story  for  the  benefit  of 
the  two  officers  and  swarm  of 
interested  lookers-on.  He  only 
succeeded  in  inspiring  the  colonel 
with  mingled  incredulity  and 
disgust. 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it," 
he  said  to  Captain  Cross.  "  And 
we  are  losing  valuable  time.  We 
must  start  at  once." 


96  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

An  hour  later  this  peaceful 
Sabbath  morning,  the  sergeant 
stood,  cap  in  hand,  before  Major 
Edwards  on  the  veranda,  of  his 
pleasant  quarters.  Two  pretty 
children  were  playing  with  a  big, 
shaggy,  lazy  staghound,  pulling 
his  ears  and  tormenting  him  in 
various  ways  ;  a  pleasant-faced  lady 
came  forth,  sunshade  and  prayer 
book  in  hand,  and  at  sight  of 
her  the  little  ones  reluctantly  rose 
and  bade  good-by  to  their  four- 
footed  friend,  and  the  party 
started  slowly  away  across  the 
green  parade  to  the  post  chapel, 
nodding  and  smiling  to  the  spruce 
orderly,  who  stood  respectfully 
aside  to  let  them  pass.  Mrs. 
Edwards  glanced  quickly  and 
sympathetically  into  the  ser- 


LOYAL   FRIENDS.  97 

geant's  sad  face  as  he  stood  there 
before  her  husband's  easy-chair. 
She  knew  well  what  it  all  meant, 
but  there  was  nothing  for  her  to 
say.  Small  parties  of  infantry 
officers  and  of  ladies  and  children 
joined  them  on  the  way  to  the 
humble  wooden  sanctuary  ;  the 
soft  notes  of  the  bugle  were 
sounding  church  call ;  a  warm 
gentle  breeze  from  the  southern 
plains  stirred  the  folds  of  the  big 
flag  ;  the  sunshine  was  joyous  and 
brilliant,  and  all  spoke  of  peace, 
order,  and  contentment.  Yet 
there  stood  Waller  with  almost 
bursting  heart ;  and  yonder,  only 
a  few  miles  across  the  grassy 
ridge  to  the  north,  rode  that  little 
party  of  officers  and  men  to  al 
most  certain  death. 


98  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

The  major  looked  up  as  he 
finished  reading  the  letter  placed 
in  his  hands. 

"  I  have  no  words  to  tell  you 
of  my  sympathy  and  sorrow,  ser 
geant.  Of  course  you  know  my 
plain  duty  in  the  matter.  The 
sheriff  has  been  notified,  and  two 
of  his  deputies  already  have  gone 
out  to  search.  He  would  hardly 
be  mad  enough  to  come  anywhere 
near  us,  if  guilty.  But  if  he  is 
taken  he  will  be  held  here  under 
my  charge,  and  I  will  see  that  you 
have  every  proper  opportunity  of 
visiting  him.  The  adjutant  tells 
me  you  had  heard  something  of 
the  Indians  being  south  of  the 
Platte.  What  was  it?" 

"  A  man  who  boarded  our  train 
at  the  Bluffs,  sir.  He  claimed  to 


LOYAL   FRIENDS.  99 

have  had  to  ride  hard  for  his  life 
yesterday  afternoon,  and  that 
there  were  scores  of  the  Sioux 
this  side  of  the  river.  I  took  him 
to  Colonel  Gaines  and  Captain 
Cross,  sir  ;  but  the  man  had  been 
drinking  so  much  that  they  dis 
trusted  him  entirely.  They  left 
the  station  before  I  started  for  the 
barracks,  sir." 

The  major  sat  thoughtfully 
gazing  out  across  the  parade  a 
moment  ;  then  answered  : 

"  We  have  had  no  rumors  of 
anything  of  the  kind,  and  they 
would  be  almost  sure  to  come  this 
way  to  us,  if  anyone  heard  of  such 
stories.  There  are  no  settlers 
along  the  road,  after  leaving  the 
springs,  out  here  until  you  reach 
the  Platte.  I  can  hardly  believe 


100  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

it,  but  we'll  see  what  can  be  got 
from  the  man  when  he  sobers  up. 
Now  the  sergeant-major  will  go 
with  you  to  the  quarters,  and  I 
will  see  you  later  in  the  day." 

But  later  in  the  day  that  prom 
ise  was  forgotten  in  an  excite 
ment  of  far  greater  magnitude. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

LURKING     FOES. 

HURCH  was  over.  The 
bugler  had  just  sounded 
mess  call,  and  the  soldiers  in  their 
neat  "undress"  uniform  were  just 
going  in  to  dinner,  when  a  man  on 
a  "  cow  pony  " — one  of  those  wiry, 
active  little  steeds  so  much  in  use 
around  the  cattle-herd — came  full 
speed  into  the  garrison  and  threw 
himself  from  the  saddle  at  Major 
Edwards'  gate.  It  was  the  tele 
graph  operator  at  the  railway 
station.  In  his  hands  were  two 


102  TRUMPETER  FA' ED. 

brown  envelopes,  and  Major 
Edwards,  as  he  stepped  forward 
to  meet  him,  saw  in  his  face  the 
tell-tale  look  of  a  bearer  of  bad 
news. 

"  I've  no  idea  whose  horse  that 
is,  major.  There  were  a  half 
dozen  of  'em  in  front  of  a  saloon 
there  in  town,  and  I  jumped  on 
the  first  I  saw.  These  have  just 
come — one  from  Laramie,  one 
from  Omaha.  I  dropped  every 
thing  at  the  office  to  fetch  them 
to  you." 

Edwards  tore  open  first  one  and 
then  the  other.  The  first  read  : 

"  Couriers  in  front  of  Captain 
Wallace  report  large  war  parties 
along  the  Platte,  and  some  across, 
raiding  the  Sidney  road.  Four 


LURKING  FOES.  103 

teamsters  killed,  scalped,  and  muti 
lated  three  miles  south  of  river. 
Bodies  found.  Warn  back  every 
body  attempting  to  go  that  way." 

The  second  was  from  the  office 
of  the  department  commander 
himself : 

"  Indians  in  force  south  of 
Platte,  on  Sidney  road.  If  Colo 
nel  Gaines  and  Captain  Cross 
have  started,  send  couriers  at  once 
to  recall  them." 

The  major's  face  was  dark  with 
dismay. 

"  They  have  been  gone  nearly 
four  hours,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Even 
if  I  had  swift  riders  ready,  who 
could  catch  them  in  time?" 


104  TRUMPETER   FRED. 

"  I've  been  a  trooper  all  my  life, 
sir,"  came  sudden  answer.  "  Give 
me  a  horse  and  carbine  and  Let 
me  go." 

The  major  might  have  known 
'twas  Sergeant  Waller. 

True  to  his  word,  and  arrang 
ing  with  the  officers  of  the  court- 
martial  to  return  in  case  his 
further  testimony  was  required, 
Captain  Charlton  set  forth  at 
daybreak  on  Saturday,  intending 
to  push  straight  through  to  Red 
Cloud  as  fast  as  mules  could 
drag  or  horses  bear  him.  To  the 
Niobrara  crossing  the  road  was 
hard  and  smooth,  when  once  they 
cleared  the  sandy  wastes  of  the 
Platte  bottom.  He  had  a  capital 
team,  a  light  ambulance,  and  a 


LURKING  FOES.  105 

little  squad  of  seasoned  troopers 
to  go  with  him  as  escort.  It  was 
a  drive  of  nearly  ninety  miles,  but 
he  proposed  resting  his  animals 
an  hour  at  the  Niobrara,  another 
hour  at  sunset ;  feeding  and  water 
ing  carefully  each  time,  and  so 
keeping  on  to  the  old  Agency 
until  he  reached  his  troop  late  at 
night. 

No  danger  was  to  be  appre 
hended  until  the  party  got  beyond 
the  Rawhide,  and  not  very  much 
until  they  were  across  the  Nio 
brara,  but  Charlton  and  his  half 
a  dozen  troopers  had  been  over 
each  inch  of  the  ground  time  and 
again,  and  very  little  did  they 
dread  the  Sioux. 

After  midday  the  little  party 
had  halted  close  beside  the  spot 


106  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

where  Blunt's  detachment  had 
made  their  bivouac  so  short  a 
time  before.  Here  were  the 
ashes  of  their  cook-fires  and  the 
countless  hoof-prints  of  the  horses. 
Here,  too,  was  the  trail  in  double 
file,  leading  away  northward 
across  the  prairie — a  short  cut  to 
the  Red  Cloud  road.  Charlton 
followed  it  with  his  keen  eyes, 
and  noted  with  a  smile  how 
straight  a  line  its  young  leader 
must  have  made  for  the  "  dip"  in 
the  grassy  ridge  a  mile  away, 
through  which  ran  the  hard, 
beaten  track.  Blunt  prided  him 
self  on  these  little  points  of  sol 
diership,  as  the  captain  well  re 
membered,  and  when  charged  with 
guiding  at  the  head  of  a  column, 
was  pretty  sure  to  fix  his  eyes  on 


LURKING  FOES.  107 

some  distant  landmark  and  steer 
for  that,  with  little  regard  for  what 
might  be  going  on  at  the  rear. 

The  ambulance  mules,  tethered 
about  the  tongue,  were  busily 
crunching  their  liberal  measure  of 
oats.  Each  cavalry  horse,  too, 
buried  his  nose  deep  in  the  shim 
mering  pile  his  rider  had  carefully 
poured  for  him  upon  the  dry  side 
of  the  saddle-blanket.  The  men 
were  contentedly  eating  their  hard 
tack  and  bacon  and  drinking  their 
coffee  from  huge  tin  cups  with  the 
relish  of  old  frontiersmen.  One 
trooper,  a  few  yards  away  out  on 
the  prairie,  kept  vigilant  watch. 
Pondering  deeply  over  the  strange 
and  unaccountable  charge  that 
had  been  laid  at  his  young 
trumpeter's  door,  the  captain  was 


108  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

slowly  pacing  down  the  bank,  puf 
fing  away  at  the  briar  root  pipe 
that  was  the  constant  companion 
of  his  scouting  days.  Suddenly 
he  heard  the  sentry  call,  and,  turn 
ing,  saw  him  pointing  to  the 
ground  at  his  feet. 

"  What  is  it,  Horton  ?"  he  asked, 
going  over  toward  him. 

"  Pony  tracks,  sir.  The  Indians 
have  been  nosing  around  here 
since  our  men  left." 

There  were  the  prints  of  some 
half  a  dozen  little  unshod  hoofs 
dotting  the  sandy  hollows  in  the 
low  ground  near  the  stream,  ancl 
easily  traceable  among  the  clumps 
of  buffalo  grass  beyond.  Charl- 
ton  could  see  where  they  had 
gathered  in  one  spot,  as  though 
their  riders  were  then  in  consulta- 


LURKING   FOES.  109 

tion,  and  then  scattered  once  more 
along  the  bank.  Two  hundred 
yards  away  stood  the  lonely  log 
cabin,  all  that  was  left  of  what  had 
been  the  ranch,  and  following  the 
trail,  the  captain  presently  found 
himself  nearing  it.  Two  tracks 
seemed  to  lead  straight  thither, 
and  before  he  reached  it  were 
joined  by  several  more.  Close  to 
the  abandoned  hut  the  ground 
was  worn  smooth  and  hard  ;  yet  in 
the  hollows  were  accumulations  of 
dust  blown  from  the  roadway  up 
the  stream.  Around  here  the 
pony  tracks  were  thick,  and  just 
within  the  gaping  doorway  were 
footprints  in  the  dust — some  of 
spurred  bootheels  and  broad  soles, 
one  still  more  recent  of  Sioux 
moccasins.  Through  the  solid  log 


no        .        TRUMPETER  FRED. 

walls  two  small  square  windows 
had  been  cut  and  narrow  slits  for 
rifles,  in  the  days  when  the  occu 
pants  had  frequent  occasion  to 
defend  their  prairie  castle.  The 
opening  to  the  subterranean 
"keep"  was  yawning  under  the 
eastern  wall,  its  wooden  cover 
having  long  since  been  broken  up 
for  fuel.  Charlton  stood  for  a 
moment  within  the  blackened  and 
dusty  doorway,  and  glanced  curi 
ously  around  him. 

Except  for  the  new  footprints  it 
looked  very  much  as  it  did  when 
he  had  first  taken  occasion  to  in 
spect  the  interior,  earlier  in  the 
summer.  There  was  nothing  left 
that  anyone  could  carry  away,  and 
he  wondered  why  the  Indians 
should  have  troubled  themselves 


LURKING  FOES.  "I 

to  dismount  and  prowl  about.  An 
Indian  hates  a  house  on  general 
principles,  and  enters  one  only 
when  he  expects  to  make  some 
thing  by  it.  Those  recent  boot- 
prints,  nearly  effaced  by  the  moc 
casins,  were  doubtless  those  of 
some  of  Blunt's  party.  Curiosity 
had  prompted  some  time-killing 
trooper  to  stroll  out  here  and  take 
a  look  at  the  place.  The  sun 
shine  streaming  in  at  the  open 
doorway  made  a  brilliant  oblong 
square  upon  the  earthen  floor  and 
lighted  up  the  grimy  interior. 
The  steps  cut  down  to  the  dark 
"  dugout  "  were  crumbling  away, 
and  it  was  impossible  to  see  more 
than  a  few  feet  into  the  passage 
leading  to  the  underground  for 
tress,  where  as  a  final  resort  in  an 


112  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

» 

Indian  siege  the  little  garrison 
could  take  refuge.  A  lantern  or  a 
candle  would  show  the  way,  but 
Charlton  had  neither.  Taking 

o 

out  his  match-case,  however,  he 
bent  down,  struck  a  light,  and 
peered  in.  Somebody  had  done 
the  same  thing  within  the  last  day 
or  two,  for  there  were  the  stub 
ends  of  two  matches  just  like  his 
in  the  dust  at  the  bottom  of  the 
steps,  and  there,  too — yes,  he 
lighted  another  match  and  studied 
it  carefully — there  was  the  print 
of  cavalry  boots  going  in  and 
coming  out  again.  Whoever  was 
his  predecessor,  he  had  more  curi 
osity  than  the  captain.  Charlton 
had  seen  prairie  "dugout"  forts 
before,  and  did  not  care  to  waste 
time  now. 


CHAPTER    X. 

IN    SUSPENSE. 

RETURNING  to  the  open 

sunshine  he  made  the  cir 
cuit  of  the  house,  and  on  the 
north  side  stopped  and  studied 
with  an  interest  he  had  not 
felt  before.  A  stout  post  was 
still  standing  on  that  side,  and  to 
the  post  a  cavalry  horse  had  been 
tethered  within  two  days,  and 
stood  there  long  enough  to  paw 
and  trample  the  gravel  all  around 
it.  Charlton  was  cavalryman 
enough  to  read  in  every  sign 


H4  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

that  the  steed  had  been  most  un 
willingly  detained.  In  evident 
impatience  he  had  twisted  twice 
and  again  around  that  stubborn 
bullet-scarred  stump,  and  the  troop 
commander  could  almost  see  him, 
pawing  vigorously,  tugging  at 
his  "halter-shank,"  and  plunging 
about  his  hated  but  relentless 
jailer,  and  neighing  loudly  in  hopes 
of  calling  back  his  departing 
friends.  Charlton  felt  sure  that, 
as  the  troop  rode  away,  some  one 
of  the  men  had  remained  here 
some  little  time. 

A  hundred  yards  across  the 
prairie  was  the  "double  file"  trail 
of  the  detachment  on  its  straight 
line  for  the  ridge,  and  here,  only  a 
little  distance  out,  were  the  hoof- 
prints  of  a  troop  horse  both  com- 


IN  SUSPENSE.  H5 

ing  and  going.  Even  more  in 
terested  now,  the  captain  went 
some  distance  out  across  the 
prairie,  and  still  he  found  them. 
Leaving  the  hut  and  following  to 
overtake  the  troop,  the  horse  had 
instantly  taken  the  gallop ;  the 
prints  settled  that.  But  what 
struck  Captain  Charlton  as  strange 
was  that  the  other  tracks,  those 
which  were  made  by  the  same 
horse  in  coming  to  the  hut,  were 
still  to  be  found  far  out  toward  the 
northeast.  It  was  evident,  then, 
that  the  rider  had  not  turned  back 
from  the  command  until  it  had 
marched  some  distance  from  the 
Niobrara;  that  he  had  not  gone 
back  to  the  bank  where  they  had 
been  in  camp,  as  would  have  been 
the  case  had  he  lost  or  left  some- 


Ii6  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

thing  behind,  but  had  come  here 
to  this  abandoned  hovel  south 
east  of  the  trail.  Now,  what  did 
that  mean?  One  other  thing  the 
captain  did  not  fail  to  note  ;  that 
horse  had  cast  a  shoe. 

Late  as  it  was  when  he  reached 
the  camp  on  White  River  that 
night — after  midnight,  as  it 
proved — Charlton  found  his  young 
lieutenant  up,  and  anxiously  await 
ing  him.  When  the  horses  had  all 
been  cared  for,  and  the  two  officers 
were  alone  near  their  tents,  almost 
the  first  question  asked  by  the 
captain  was  : 

"  Did  you  give  any  man  per 
mission  to  ride  back  after  you  left 
the  Niobrara  Friday  morning? 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  Blunt  in 
some  surprise.  "  No  one  asked, 


Iff  SUSPENSE.  H7 

and  every    man    was  in  his  place 
when  we   made   our   first   halt." 

Immediately  after  reveille  on 
Sunday  morning,  a  good  hour 
before  the  sun  was  high  enough 
to  peep  over  the  tall  white  crags 
to  the  east  of  the  little  camp,  the 
two  officers  were  out  at  the  line, 
superintending  the  grooming  of 
the  horses.  Fifty  men  were  now 
present  for  duty,  and  fifty  active 
steeds  were  tethered  there  at  the 
picket  rope,  nipping  at  each  other's 
noses  or  nibbling  at  the  rope  itself, 
and  pricking  up  their  ears  as  the 
captain  stopped  to  pat  or  to  speak 
to  one  after  another  of  his  pets. 
Always  particularly  careful  of  his 
horses,  Captain  Charlton  on  this 
bright  sunshiny  morning  was  not 
ing  especially  the  condition  of 


Il8  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

their  feet.  Every  one  of  those 
two  hundred  hoofs  were  keenly 
scrutinized  as  he  passed  along  the 
line.  But  there  was  nothing  un 
usual  in  this — he  never  let  a  week 
go  by  without  it. 

"  You  seem  to  have  had  a  num 
ber  reshod  within  the  last  few 
hours,  sergeant,"  he  said  to 
Graham,  as  he  stopped  at  the 
end  of  the  line. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  looked  them  all 
over  yesterday  morning.  Every 
shoe  is  snug  and  ready  now,  in 
case  we  have  to  go  out.  Seven 
horses  were  reshod  yesterday, 
and  over  twenty  had  the  old 
shoes  tacked  on." 

Grooming  over,  each  trooper 
vaulted  on  to  the  bare  back  of 
his  horse  and  rode  in  orderly 


IN  SUSPENSE.  H9 

column  down  to  the  running 
stream,  and  still  Charlton  stood 
there,  silently  watching  his  men 
and  noting  the  condition  of  their 
steeds.  Blunt  was  bustling  about 
his  duties,  every  now  and  then 
looking  over  at  his  soldierly 
captain.  Something  told  him 
that  the  troop  commander  had 
made  a  discovery  or  two  that 
had  set  him  to  thinking.  He 
was  even  more  silent  than 
usual. 

At  seven  o'clock,  after  a  re 
freshing  dip  in  a  pool  under  the 
willows  close  at  hand,  the  two 
officers  were  seated  on  their 
camp-stools  and  breakfasting  at 
the  lid  of  the  mess  chest.  Over 
among  the  brown  buildings  of 
the  post,  half  a  mile  away,  the 


120  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

bugles  were  sounding  mess  call 
and  the  infantry  people  were 
waking  up  to  the  duties  of  the 
day.  Down  the  valley,  still 
farther  to  the  east,  the  smoke 
was  curling  from  the  tiny  fires 
among  the  Indian  tepees,  and 
scores  of  ponies  were  grazing 
out  along  the  slopes,  watched 
by  little  urchins  in  picturesque 
but  dirty  tatters.  All  was  very 
still  and  peaceful.  Even  the 
hulking  squaws  and  old  men 
loafing  about  the  Agency  store 
houses  were  silent,  and  patiently 
waiting  for  the  coming  of  the 
clerk  with  his  keys  of  office. 
One  or  two  young  braves  rode 
by  the  camp,  shrouded  in  their 
dark-blue  blankets,  and  appar 
ently  careless  of  any  change  in 


IN  SUSPENSE.  121 

the  condition  of  affairs,  yet  never 
failing  to  note  that  there  were 
fifty  horses  and  soldiers  ready 
for  duty  there  in  camp. 

Their  breakfast  finished,  Charl- 
ton  said  that  he  must  go  at  once 
to  the  office  of  the  post  com 
mander  over  in  garrison,  and  that 
he  might  be  detained  some  hours. 
"  It  will  be  well  to  keep  the 
men  here,  Blunt,  for  we  may  be 
needed  any  moment." 

And  yet,  as  he  was  riding 
away  with  his  orderly,  Charlton 
stopped  to  listen  to  what  Ser 
geant  Graham  had  to  say. 

"Sergeant  Dawson  and  Private 
Donovan  wanted  particularly  to 
go  over  to  the  post  for  a  few 
hours  this  morning,  and  so  did 
some  of  the  others,  but  I  told 


122  TRUMPETER   FRED. 

them  that  the  captain's  orders 
were  we  should  all  stay  at  camp, 
we  were  almost  sure  to  be  wanted. 
They  were  all  satisfied,  sir,  but 
Dawson  and  Donovan,  who  made 
quite  a  point  of  it,  and  I  said 
I  would  carry  their  request  to 
the  captain."  And  to  Blunt's 
surprise,  as  well  as  that  of  Ser 
geant  Graham,  the  captain  coolly 
nodded. 

"  Very  well.  They've  both  been 
doing  hard  work  of  late.  Tell 
them  to  keep  their  ears  open  for 
'boots  and  saddles';  otherwise 
they  may  stay  until  noon.  After 
dinner,  perhaps,  I  will  give  others 
a  chance  to  turn." 

Fifteen  minutes  later  Captain 
Charlton  was  in  consultation  with 
the*  post  commander,  and  after 


IN  SUSPENSE.  123 

guard  mounting  they  returned  to 
the  colonel's  house,  where  a  tall 
infantry  soldier,  the  provost  ser 
geant,  was  awaiting  him. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

HEMMED    IN    BY    SAVAGE    FOES. 

ACK  at  the  cavalry  camp 
there  was  no  little  subdued 
chat  and  wonderment  among  the 
troopers.  Lounging  in  the  shade 
of  the  trees  along  the  stream,  and 
puffing  away  at  their  pipes,  play, 
ing  cards,  as  soldiers  will,  and 
poking  fun  at  one  another  in 
rough,  good-natured  ways,  the  men 
were  yet  full  of  the  one  absorbing 
theme — Fred  Waller's  most  unac 
countable  disappearance  and  the 
loss  of  so  much  of  their  hard-earned 
money. 


124 


HEMMED  IN  BY  SAVAGE  FOES.      125 

"  I  would  have  bet  any  amount," 
said  Corporal  Wright,  "  that  when 
the  old  man" — the  captain  is 
always  the  "  old  man "  to  his 
troops — "  got  back  he  would  ride 
over  Sergeant  Dawson  roughshod 
for  letting  Waller  slip  away  on  his 
guard  ;  but  I  listened  to  him  this 
morning  and  he  talked  to  him  just 
like  a  Dutch  uncle.  I  tell  you 
Dawson  felt  a  heap  better  after  it 
was  over.  He  said  the  captain 
rfever  blamed  him  at  all." 

Noon  came,  so  did  an  orderly 
telling  Mr.  Blunt  that  the  captain 
wished  to  see  him  over  at  the  tele 
graph  office,  and  to  order  the 
horses  fed  at  once.  Forty-eight 
big  portions  of  oats  were  poured 
from  the  sacks  forthwith.  Dawson 
and  Donovan  were  not  yet  back, 


126  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

"  Leave  theirs  out,"  said  Ser 
geant  Graham,  "  they'll  be  back 
presently.  This  means  business 
again,  and  no  mistake.  Where's 
the  trouble  now,  I  wonder?" 

Shall  we  look  and  see  ?  Far  to 
the  south,  far  beyond  the  bold 
bluffs  of  the  White  River,  far 
beyond  the  swift  waters  of  the 
Niobrara, — "  L'Eau  qui  Court "  of 
the  old  French  trapper, — far  across 
the  swirling  flood  of  the  North 
Platte,  and  dotting  the  northward 
slopes,  swarms  of  naked,  brilliantly 
painted  red  warriors  in  their  long, 
trailing  war  bonnets  of  eagle's 
feathers  are  darting  about  on 
nimble  ponies,  or,  crouching  prone 
along  the  ridges,  are  eagerly 
watching  a  dust-cloud  coming 
northward  on  the  Sidney  road. 


HEMMED  IN  BY  SAVAGE   FOES.      127 

Behind  them,  between  them  and 
the  Platte,  are  the  weltering  muti 
lated  bodies  of  half  a  dozen 
herders  and  teamsters,  and  the 
smoking  ruins  of  their  big  freight- 
wagons.  Like  the  tiger's  taste  of 
blood,  the  savage  triumph  in  the 
death  of  their  hapless  foes  has 
tempted  them  far  beyond  their 
accustomed  limits.  Knowing  the 
cavalry  to  be  scouting  only  north 
of  the  Platte,  they  have  made  a 
wide  detour  and  swooped  around 
to  this  danger-haunted  road, 
eagerly  watching  for  the  coming 
of  other  white  men,  who,  like  the 
last,  should  be  ignorant  of  their 
presence  and  too  few  in  number 
to  cope  with  such  a  foe.  Here 
along  the  ridge  north  of  the  little 
"  Branch "  of  the  Platte,  half  a 


128  TRUMPETER   FRED, 

hundred  young  warriors  crouch 
and  wait.  Farther  back,  equally 
vigilant,  other  bands  are  hiding 
among  the  breaks  and  ravines 
near  the  river,  while  their  scouts 
keep  vigilant  watch  for  the  com 
ing  of  cavalry.  Forrest's  Grays 
and  Wallace's  Sorrels  cannot  be 
more  than  a  day's  ride  away,  and 
will  be  hurrying  for  the  road  the 
moment  they  know  that  the 
Indians  have  slipped  around  them. 
Wallace,  up  the  Platte,  has  already 
heard. 

It  is  three  o'clock  this  hot,  still 
Sunday  afternoon,  and  they  have 
been  six  hours  out  from  Sidney, 
driving  swiftly  and  steadily  north 
ward,  when,  as  they  reach  the 
summit  of  a  high  ridge  and  stop 
to  breathe  their  panting  team, 


HEMMED  IN  BY  SAVAGE  FOES,      129 

Colonel  Gaines  takes  a  long  look 
through  his  field  glass.  Just  in 
front  is  the  shallow  valley  of  the 
little  stream  now  called  the 
"  Pumpkinseed  "  though  pumpkins 
were  unheard-of  features  in  the 
landscape  of  fifteen  years  ago. 

Off  to  their  right  front,  several 
miles  away,  lie  the  low,  broad 
bottom  lands  of  the  Platte. 
Across  the  Pumpkinseed,  a  mile 
distant,  another  ridge,  like  the  one 
on  which  they  halted,  only  not  so 
high  ;  to  the  westward  a  tumbling 
sea  of  prairie  upland — all  buttes, 
ridges,  ravines,  coulees — but  not  a 
living  soul  is  anywhere  in  sight. 
Far  as  his  practiced  eye  can  sweep 
the  horizon  and  the  broad  low 
lands  of  the  Platte  not  a  sign  of 
living,  moving  object  can  Colonel 


13°  TRUMPETER   FRED. 

Gaines    detect.     Turning  around, 

d> 

he  trains  his  glass  upon  the  tortu 
ous  road  they  had  been  following, 
and  along  which  the  dust  is  slowly 
settling  in  their  wake.  Something 
seems  to  attract  his  gaze,  for  he 
holds  the  binocle  steadily  toward 
the  south.  Naturally  Captain 
Cross  and  the  two  soldiers  follow 
with  their  eyes  ;  the  third  infantry 
man  has  dismounted,  and  is  read 
justing  the  girths  of  his  saddle. 

"What  is  it?"  asks  Cross. 

"  I  can't  make  out,"  is  the  reply, 
"  Something  is  kicking  up  a  dust 
there,  some  miles  behind  us.  A 
horseman,  I  should  say,  though 
I've  seen  nobody.  Wait  a  few 
minutes.  He's  down  in  a  swale 
now,  whoever  it  is." 

Everybody    turns   to   lopk   and 


BE  TOOK   A.   LONG   LOOK   THROUGH   HIS    GLASSES. 


HEMMED  IN  BY  SAVAGE  FOES.      I31 

listen.  Those  were  days  when 
such  a  thing  as  a  single  horseman 
following  in  pursuit  had  a  mean 
ing  that  is  lacking  now. 

Three,  four  minutes  they  wait 
in  silence  ;  then  the  colonel  sud 
denly  exclaims  : 

"  I  have  him — a  mere  dot  yet ! " 

Presently  he  lowers  his  glasses, 
and  dusts  the  lenses  with  his 
handkerchief.  His  face  is  graver. 

"  Whoever  that  is,  he  is  riding 
for  all  he  is  worth,"  he  says.  "  I 
half  believe  he  wants  to  catch  us." 

Another  long  look.  Utter  si 
lence  in  the  party.  A  mule  in  the 
wheel  team  gives  an  impatient 
shake  of  his  entire  system,  and 
chains,  tugs,  and  swing-bars  all 
rattle  noisily. 

"Quiet  there,  you  fool!"  growls 


132  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

the  driver  angrily,  and  with  a 
threatening  sweep  of  his  long 
whip-lash.  Then  the  silence 
becomes  intense  again,  and  every 
man  strains  his  eyes  over  the 
prairie  slopes  shimmering  in  the 
heat  of  the  July  sun.  Suddenly 
an  exclamation  bursts  from  two 
or  three  pairs  of  bearded  lips. 
Far  away,  but  in  plain  sight  in 
that  rare  atmosphere,  a  speck  of  a 
horseman  darts  into  view  over  a 
distant  ridge,  sweeps  down  the 
slope  at  full  gallop,  and  plunges 
out  of  sight  again  in  a  low  dip  of 
the  rolling  surface. 

"  No  man  rides  like  that  unless 
there  is  mischief  abroad,"  mutters 
Cross,  as  he  swings  out  of  the 
wagon  to  the  ground.  "  Give  me 
my  rifle,  Murray." 


HEMMED  IN  BY   SAVAGE   FOES.      133 

Then,  sudden  as  thunderclap 
from  summer  sky,  with  wild,  shrill 
clamor,  with  thunder  of  hoofs,  and 
sputter  of  rapid  shots  ;  with  yell 
and  taunt  and  hideous  war  cry, 
from  the  very  ground  itself,  from 
behind  every  little  ridge ;  up  from 
the  ravines,  down  from  the  prairie 
buttes ;  hurling  upon  them  in 
mad,  raging  race,  there  flashes 
into  sight  of  their  startled  eyes  a 
horde  of  painted  savages. 

"The  Sioux!  The  Sioux!" 
yells  the  driver,  as  he  leaps  from 
his  box. 

"  Hang  on  to  your  mules  !  " 
shouts  Cross.  "  Down  with  you, 
men !  Fire  slow !  They'll  veer 
when  they  get  in  closer.  Now  ! " 

Bang!  goes  Cross'  piece. 
Bang!  bang!  the  rifles  of  the 


134  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

nearest  soldiers.  The  mules 
plunge  wildly,  and  are  tangled  in 
an  instant  in  the  traces.  Over 
goes  the  wagon  with  a  crash. 
Bang  goes  Games'  big  Spring 
field  as  he  coolly  spreads  himself 
on  the  ground.  An  Indian  pony 
stumbles  and  hurls  his  rider  on 
the  turf,  and  Cross  gives  an  exult 
ant  cheer.  Yet  all  the  same  he 
knows  full  well  that  now  it  is  life 
or  death.  The  little  party  is 
hemmed  in  by  a  host  of  savage 
foes. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MYSTERIOUS    HOOF-PRINTS. 

T  was  Saturday  night  that, 
from  far  up  the  Platte,  the 
news  came  to  Captain  Wallace  of 
the  dash  made  by  the  Sioux  for 
the  Sidney  road.  For  two  days 
previous  he  had  been  hunting 
Indians  upstream  toward  the 
Rawhide,  and  had  found  a  perfect 
network  of  pony  tracks  and  had 
had  some  very  distant  glimpses  of 
flittino-  warriors.  His  scouts  had 

o 

told  him  that  the  Sioux  and  Chey- 
ennes    were    swarming    over    the 


135 


I36  TRUMPETER   FRED. 

country  to  the  northwest  of  him, 
and  that  none  had  appeared  to 
the  east.  It  was  his  business, 
therefore,  to  move  against  them, 
and  move  he  did,  trusting  that 
Forrest  and  the  Grays  would 
be  alert  along  the  southern  verge 
of  the  reservations  that  no  formi 
dable  parties  could  slip  southward 
in  his  absence. 

But  this  was  simply  part  and 
parcel  of  the  Indian  scheme. 
Having  lured  him  two  days'  march 
away  from  the  Sidney  crossing, 
these  enterprising  warriors  kept 
him  occupied,  while  their  con 
federates,  making  a  wide  detour 
around  Forrest,  slipped  across  the 
Platte  and  swooped  down  upon 
the  poor  fellows  with  the  freight 
wagons.  Only  one  of  their  num- 


MYSTERIOUS  HOOF-PRINTS.      137 

her  managed  to  escape,  and  he, 
madly  riding  westward,  came  upon 
some  herdsmen  who  promptly 
joined  him  in  his  flight.  They 
had  seen  the  cavalry  going  up  the 
north  bank  a  day  or  two  before, 
and  they  never  drew  rein  until 
they  found  them.  Wallace  at 
once  sent  couriers  westward  to 
Fort  Laramie  with  the  news,  and 
at  break  of  day  started  down 
stream  with  his  whole  troop. 
They  had  not  marched  five  miles 
before  they  came  upon  the  hoof- 
prints  of  a  single  horse,  and  just 
beyond  the  point  where  these 
hoofprints  crossed  their  trail,  the 
tracks  of  half  a  dozen  Indian  ponies 
met  their  eager  eyes.  One  old 
sergeant,  reining  out  of  column  to 
the  right,  followed  the  shod  tracks 


138  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

over  to  the  river  bank,  and  a  lieu 
tenant  spurred  out  and  joined  him 
when  he  signaled  with  his  broad- 
brimmed  scouting  hat.  The  rest 
of  the  troop  moved  stolidly  ahead. 
Presently  the  young  officer 
overtook  the  column  and  reined 
in  beside  his  captain. 

"  Where  did  they  go,  Park  ?  " 
"Straight  into  the  stream,  sir, 
and  evidently  to  the  other  side. 
Sergeant  Brooks  says  'twas  a 
troop  horse  with  a  light  rider,  and 
that  he  had  to  swim  across.  The 
river  is  six  feet  deep  out  there, 
but  it  was  his  only  way  of  escape. 
The  Indians  couldn't  have  been 
far  behind,  and  yet  they  didn't 
follow.  Their  tracks  turn  down 
the  bank  on  this  side.  Brooks  is 
following-  them  now." 

o 


MYSTERIOUS  HOOF-PRINTS.      139 

"  Who  on  earth  could  have 
come  through  here  at  such  a 
time  ?  Why,  the  country  has 
been  running  over  with  Indians!" 

"  That's  what  puzzles  me,  sir, 
but  Brooks  says  there  is  no  mis 
take.  It's  the  cavalry  shoe,  of 
course.  It's  just  after  pay  day  at 
Robinson.  Could  it  have  been  a 
deserter?" 

"  No  man  in  his  senses  would 
have  dared  such  a  thing,"  is  the 
impatient  answer.  "  It  may  be 
some  other  infernal  trick  to  get  us 
away  from  our  legitimate  business. 
What  we've  got  to  do  is  reach  that 
Sidney  road  by  sunset.  By  Jove! 
if  I'm  court-martialed  for  this  busi 
ness,  it  won't  surprise  me."  And 
the  captain's  horse  evidently  felt 
the  sudden  grip  of  the  knees,  for 


140  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

he  took  a  sudden  spurt  and  set 
most  of  the  troop  at  the  nerve- 
wearing  jog-trot.  Mr.  Park  said 
nothing  more,  but  for  the  life  of 
him  he  could  not  help  thinking  of 
those  lone  hoofprints  and  of  that 
solitary  rider.  Who  could  he  be  ? 

It  is  time  we  got  back  to  him. 
Only  one  man  or  boy,  known  to  us 
at  least,  could  have  come  that  way. 
It  was  Trumpeter  Fred. 

Daybreak  Friday  had  found  him 
a  few  miles  south  of  the  Niobrara, 
and  close  to  the  Laramie  road. 
At  noon  Friday  he  had  halted  at 
the  Rawhide  to  rest  his  horse  and 
take  a  bite  of  luncheon,  but  all 
his  young  soul  was  athrill  with 
eagerness  ;  every  faculty  was  alert. 
Warned  of  the  recent  presence  of 
Indians  on  every  side,  he  was  .yet 


MYSTERIOUS  HOOF-PRINTS.      141 

seeking  to  gain  the  Platte  before 
nightfall ;  cross  to  the  south  bank, 
where  there  was  comparative 
safety ;  ride  southeastward  until 
his  horse  was  exhausted,  picket  him 
where  grass  and  water  were  near 
at  hand,  sleep  till  dawn  again,  and 
then  push  on.  He  must  reach  the 
Sidney  road  before  Sunday  morn 
ing  and  strike  it  far  below  the 
river. 

But  here,  as  he  neared  the  val 
ley,  a  sight  had  met  hjs  eyes  which 
made  his  young  heart  leap.  The 
banks  of  the  Rawhide  were  dotted 
here  and  there  by  fresh  pony 
tracks,  and,  coming  from  the  dis 
tant  ridges  to  the  east,  they  had 
gone  in  as  though  to  water,  and 
then  turned  down  toward  the 
Platte,  the  very  way  he  wanted  to 


142  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

go.  An  hour,  with  his  horse 
hidden  behind  him  in  a  shallow 
ravine,  Fred  Waller  was  lying 
prone  upon  the  ground,  and  peer 
ing  over  a  ridge  into  the  low,  level 
wastes  stretching  far  to  the  south 
east,  bordering  the  Platte  to  the 
very  horizon.  What  most  attracted 
his  gaze  was  a  little  dust  cloud, 
miles  away  downstream,  into  which 
tiny  black  dots  were  moving, 
with  other  little  dots  scurrying 
about  at  some  distance  from  the 
main  cluster.  No  need  to  tell  him 
they  were  Indians. 

It  was  some  minutes  before  he 
could  determine  which  way  they 
were  really  going,  but  when  he 
finally  saw  that  they  were  bound 
down  the  valley,  the  boy's  heart 
beat  high  with  hope.  He  could 


FLAT  ON  THE  GROUND  WAS  PEEKING  OVER  THE  BIDGE. 


MYSTERIOUS  HOOF-PRINTS.      143 

venture  down  to  the  Platte  as  soon 
as  they  had  passed  entirely  out  of 
sight,  and  find  some  place  to  cross 
well  to  the  west  of  them.  An 
hour  he  waited  and  still  they  were 
in  view.  Then  they  seemed  to 
disappear  in  a  little  clump  of  tim 
ber.  He  waited  fifteen  to  twenty 
minutes,  and  they  were  still  there. 
Then  it  suddenly  dawned  upon 
him  that  the  whole  band  were 
resting"  in  the  shade  while  their 
scouts  searched  the  neighborhood. 
He  was  five  or  six  miles  from  the 
river,  and  every  inch  of  ground  in 
front  was  open.  He  knew  well 
that  their  eyes  were  keener  than 
his,  and  should  he  make  a  dash  for 
it  they  would  certainly  see  and 
give  chase.  What  he  could  not 
detect,  and  did  not  dream  of,  was 


144  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

that  miles  still  further  away  down 
the  Platte  another  dust  cloud  was 
slowly  advancing — Wallace's  troop 
coming  upstream—  and  their  scouts 
were  watching  that. 

At  last,  after  another  hour  of 
anxiety,  he  determined  to  slip 
away  westward,  go  up  the  Raw 
hide  a  few  miles  until  he  could 
gain  the  shelter  of  some  low-lying 
ridges,  crossing  the  stream,  and 
making  a  wide  circuit,  sweep 
around  to  the  Platte.  He  might 
still  reach  it  before  dark  and  find 
a  ford,  or  at  least  a  place  to  swim 
across  ;  he  could  trust  "  Big  Jim  " 
for  that.  But  even  as  he  would 
have  put  this  plan  in  execution,  he 
saw  to  his  dismay  a  new  move 
among  the  warriors.  Four  little 
dots  came  riding  from  the  timber 


MYSTERIOUS  HOOF-PRINTS.      MS 

and  pushing  back  up  the  valley. 
These  were  only  the  advance.  In 
half  an  hour  the  whole  band  came 
jogging  leisurely  out  of  the 
shadows,  and  little  dots  farther 
east  came  streaking  across  the 
flats  to  join  them.  Fred  saw  that 
the  whole  war  party  was  now 
retracing  its  steps  and  coming 
back  upstream,  and  that  now,  if 
he  waited,  he  might  pursue  his 
original  intention  of  crossing  at 
the  shallows,  ten  miles  below  the 
mouth  of  the  Rawhide.  And  so, 
patiently  and  pluckily,  he  kept  his 
ground, — "Big  Jim"  contentedly 
filling  himself  with  buffalo  grass 
the  while, — and  not  until  the  sun 
was  low  in  the  west  did  Fred 
realize  their  real  intent.  Just  as 
the  scouts,  far  in  advance  of  the 


146  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

main  party,  reached  the  winding 
banks  of  the  Rawhide,  they 
seemed  to  hold  brief  consultation  ; 
one  of  them  plunged  through 
to  the  western  side,  the  other 
three  turned  and  came  straight 
toward  the  watching  boy. 

Great  Heavens!  It  meant  that 
the  whole  party  was  coming  up  the 
Rawhide,  and  before  dark  would 
find  and  follow  his  track.  Fred's 
first  impulse  was  to  mount,  and 
giving  Jim  the  spurs,  ride  on  the 
wings  of  the  wind  back  to  the  north 
— back  to  the  Niobrara,  where 
he  had  left  the  troop  in  bivouac. 
There  at  least  was  safety,  for  they 
could  not  trail  him  in  the  dark. 
But  the  second  thought  covered 
him  with  shame.  Go  back — go 
back  now  !  Never,  so  long  as  he 


MYSTERIOUS  HOOF-PRINTS.      147 

had  a  chance  for  life  and  hope. 
Away  from  here,  and  instantly,  he 
must  speed  on  his  mission,  and  in 
another  moment  his  girth  was 
tightened,  and  "  Big  Jim,"  aston 
ished,  was  racing  away  eastward, 
but  keeping  the  sheltered  ridge 
between  him  and  the  Platte. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

AWAY    TO    THE    RESCUE  ! 

|H"AT  night  Fred  Waller 
slept  fitfully  on  the  open 
prairie,  with  "  Big  Jim  "  tethered 
close  at  hand.  Saturday  morning 
found  him  ten  miles  to  the  east 
and  ten  miles  further  from  the 
river  than  the  point  where  he 
watched  the  Sioux  the  previous 
evening.  Hungry  and  worn  with 
anxiety  as  he  was,  the  poor  boy's 
heart  sank  within  him  when  he 
cautiously  peered  over  the  ridge 
into  the  valley.  After  an  early 


AWAY   TO    THE  RESCUE!        149 

morning  ride,  he  saw  the  dust 
clouds  near  the  stream,  and  felt 
that  he  was  still  cut  off.  Noon 
was  near  when,  far  as  he  could 
see  up  or  down,  the  valley  was 
clear  ;  and  then  creeping  out  from 
his  lair,  he  again  mounted  and 
rode  straight  for  the  Platte. 
Warily  he  watched  in  every 
direction,  but  no  intruders  came. 
He  was  spurring  over  the  flats 
only  a  mile  from  the  river  before 
the  first  sign  of  pursuit  was 
made.  Then,  far  back  toward  the 
bluffs  he  had  left,  Fred  spied  a 
little  party  of  warriors  coming 
after  him  full  tilt.  Never  stop 
ping  for  more  than  one  glance  he 
gave  Jim  the  rein,  urging  him  to 
full  speed  ;  marked,  as  he  flashed 
across  it  only  a  few  hundred  yards 


150  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

from  the  bank,  the  trail  of  a 
cavalry  command  going  up  the 
valley  and  wondered  whose  it 
could  be  ;  then  he  and  Jim  went 
crashing  through  the  gravel  at  the 
water's  edge  and  plunged  boldly 
into  the  running  stream.  Deeper 
and  deeper  brave  old  Jim  pushed 
in  until  the  waters  foamed  about 
his  broad  and  muscular  breast ; 
then  Fred  threw  himself  from  the 
saddle,  and  keeping  tight  hold  of 
the  pommel  and  steadying  his 
carbine  with  the  same  hand,  "  Swim 
for  it,  old  man!"  he  shouted  to 
his  gallant  horse,  and  in  another 
minute  he  and  Jim  were  floating 
with  the  current,  yet  rapidly  near- 
ing  the  other  shore.  Three 
minutes  and,  dripping  wet  but 
safe,  they  were  scrambling  up  the 


A  WA  Y   TO    THE   RESCUE  !        151 

south  bank  and  speeding  away 
over  the  bounding  turf  with  the 
baffled  pursuers  still  two  miles 
behind. 

And  these  were  the  tracks  that 
Wallace  found  as  he  came  hurry 
ing  back  downstream. 

Saturday  again  Fred  Waller 
and  his  faithful  horse  spent  on  the 
open  prairie,  for  in  the  darkness 
he  found  it  impossible  to  make  his 
way.  The  moon  was  gone  by  one 
o'clock,  and  her  light  had  been  all 
too  faint  before.  But  Sunday,  just 
a  little  after  noon,  he  had  come  in 
sight  of  the  goal  he  had  sought 
through  such  infinite  pluck  and 
peril — the  Sidney  road  ;  and  as 
he  gazed  at  it  from  afar,  peering  at 
it  as  usual  from  behind  a  shelter 
ing  bluff,  his  heart  sank  into  his 


IS2  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

boots.  He  had  come  too  late ; 
there  on  that  distant  trail  were 
the  tiny  columns  of  blue  smoke 
floating  skyward  which  told  of 
burning"  wagons,  now  in  crumbling 
ruins.  Worse  than  that,  here 
close  at  hand,  over  on  the  other 
side  of  the  long,  shallow  swale, 
were  twoscore  Indian  warriors  in 
all  their  barbaric  finery,  excitedly 
watching  the  coming  of  other 
victims. 

With  a  moan  of  anguish  Fred 
Waller  marked,  a  mile  beyond  and 
rapidly  approaching  them,  a  four- 
mule  ambulance  with  a  single  sol 
dier  cantering  along  behind. 

"Oh,  my  God,  my  God!"  he 
groaned  aloud.  "  I  am  too  late, 
after  all." 

But   the   wagon    halted    on    the 


AWAY    TO    THE  XESCUE  !         153 

distant  hills.  The  Indians,  ab 
sorbed  in  their  cat-like  watch, 
were  eagerly  gesticulating  and 
excitedly  pointing  to  some  object 
far  beyond.  Several  of  their 
numbers  lashed  their  ponies  into 
a  tearing  gallop  and  sped  away  in 
wide  circuit  to  the  southward, 
keeping  the  bluffs  between  them 
and  the  wagon.  Others  followed 
part  of  the  distance.  He  knew 
the  maneuver  well ;  already  they 
were  planning  the  surround.  In 
helpless  agony  he  watched,  for  he 
was  powerless  to  aid — powerless 
even  to  warn.  He  seized  his 
ready  carbine,  loosened  the  car 
tridges  in  his  belt,  and  looked 
eagerly  to  Jim's  girths.  Then 
once  again  he  faced  the  southeast, 
and  saw,  far  away  across  the  waves 


154  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

of  prairie,  a  little  puff  of  dust  and 
a  little  black  dot — a  rider — com 
ing  full  tilt  in  the  wake  of  the 
wagon. 

"Who  can  it  be?"  he  wondered. 
"Can  he  possibly  know  of  this 
ambuscade  ?  " 

All  too  late  !  A  sudden  flash 
ing  signal  from  the  leader,  and 
all  at  an  instant  with  trailing 
feathers,  with  war  cry  and  the 
thunder  of  a  hundred  hoofs,  the 
painted  band  has  whirled  across 
the  ridge  in  front  and  is  down 
in  the  dip  beyond.  Every  Indian 
has  vanished  from  his  view  and 
whirled  into  sight  of  the  victims 
on  the  crest  beyond. 

In  an  instant,  too,  Fred  Waller 
is  in  saddle,  and  spurring  on  to 
the  ridge  which  they  have  just 


A  IV AY    TO    THE  XESCUE  !        155 

left,  and  then  once  more  he  reins 
in  where  he  can  just  peer  over  the 
crest.  He  notes  with  a  cheer  of 
joy  that  the  charge  is  checked— 
that  the  Indians  have  veered  off 
and  are  now  dashing  in  a  great 
circle  around  the  central  point 
on  the  height  beyond.  He  sees 
the  wild  stampede  and  tangle  of 
the  mules,  the  overthrow  of  the 
ambulance ;  the  quick,  cool,  reso 
lute  reply  of  the  attacked.  He 
marks  with  a  glow  of  mad  delight, 
of  reviving  hope,  that  there  is 
not  a  woman  or  child  with  the 
party. 

"Thank  God!"  he  cries  aloud, 
"  It  isn't  Mrs.  Charlton."  He 
waves  his  hat  with  exultation  as 
he  sees  a  pony  stumbling  in  death 
upon  the  prairie,  and  his  rider 


156  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

limping  painfully  away  ;  he  knows 
now  that  they  are  soldiers,  hold 
ing  their  own  for  at  least  a  time, 
and  that  all  depends  on  getting 
aid  for  them  before  nightfall. 
Far  up  the  valley  on  the  other 
side  he  had  marked  at  noon  a 
dust-cloud  sailing  slowly  toward 
him.  It  must  be  the  Sorrels  or 
the  Grays,  hastening  back  to  clear 
the  Sidney  road.  Here  is  the 
thing  to  do  :  gallop  back,  recross 
the  river,  meet  and  guide  them  to 
the  rescue.  There  is  still  time 
to  get  them  here  before  the  sun 
goes  down — if  only  the  besieged 
can  hold  out  that  long. 

One  more  glance  he  takes  at 
the  stirring  picture  before  him, 
longing  to  drive  a  shot  at  the 
nearest  Indians,  and  as  he  gazes 


IN   FULL  J'LIQHT. 


AWAY    TO    THE  RESCUE!         15? 

there  comes  staggering,  laboring 
into  sight  from  around  a  point 
of  bluff  beyond  the  beleaguered 
party,  a  horse  all  foam  and  blood, 
who  goes  plunging  to  earth  only 
a  few  yards  away  from  the  am 
bulance,  and  rolls  stiffening  and 
quivering  in  his  death  agony ; 
but  the  gray-haired  old  rider  has 
leaped  safely  to  the  ground,  and 
his  carbine  flashed  its  instant 
defiance  at  the  yelling  foe.  Even 
at  that  distance  there  is  no 
mistaking  the  well-known  form. 
Fred  Waller's  wondering  eyes 
have  recognized  at  once  —  his 
father. 

Now  indeed  he  speeds  away 
for  help!  Now  indeed,  has  Jim 
to  run  for  more  than  life  !  Turn 
ing  his  back  upon  the  thrilling 


I58  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

scene,  the  little  trumpeter  goes 
like  a  prairie  gale,  whirling  back 
to  the  valley  of  the  Platte. 

The  sun  is  sinking  behind  the 
bluffs,  and  its  last  rays  fall  on  a 
bullet-riddled  ambulance ;  on  the 
stiffening  bodies  of  a  half  dozen 
slaughtered  animals — a  horse  and 
some  mules ;  on  a  grim,  deter 
mined  little  band  of  soldiers — two 
of  them  sorely  wounded.  The 
red  shafts  gleam  on  a  litter  of 
empty  cartridge-shells  and  tinge 
the  canvas  top  of  the  overturned 
wagon.  Out  on  the  rolling  prairie 
several  hundred  yards  away,  the 
turf  is  dotted  here  and  there  by 
Indian  ponies,  the  innocent  victims 
of  this  savage  warfare.  Such 
Indian  braves  as  have  fallen  have 


A  W 'AY    TO    THE  RESCUE  I        159 

long  since  been  picked  up  by  their 
raging  comrades  and  borne  away. 
Despite  their  numbers,  never  once 
yet  have  the  savages  managed  to 
reach  the  defenders.  Time  and 
again  they  have  swooped  down  in 
charge  only  to  be  met  by  cool, 
well-aimed  shots  that  tumbled 
some  of  their  numbers  to  the  turf 
and  sent  the  others  veering  and 
yelling  into  the  old  familiar  circle. 
At  last  they  are  trying  the  expedi 
ent  of  long-range  shots  from  dif 
ferent  points  of  the  compass,  hop 
ing  to  kill  or  cripple  the  whole 
party  by  sundown.  The  bullets 
clip  the  turf  and  scatter  the  dust 
all  over  the  ridge.  There  is  prac 
tically  no  shelter,  for  the  ground 
is  too  hard  to  dig.  Old  Sergeant 
Waller  is  prostrate  with  a  bullet 


160  TRUMPETER   FRED. 

through  the  thigh.  Colonel 
Gaines  has  bound  his  handker 
chief  tightly  around  his  arm. 
The  driver  lies  flat  on  his  face- 
dead.  Every  now  and  then  the 
others  turn  longing  eyes  south 
ward,  hoping  for  some  sign  of  in 
fantry  coming  from  the  post,  so 
many  a  mile  away.  They  know 
well  that  Edwards  will  have  levied 
on  every  wagon  in  Sidney  to 
bring  them ;  but  not  a  whiff  of 
dust-cloud  do  they  see.  One  of 
the  soldiers  gives  a  low  moan  and 
clasps  his  hands  to  his  side;  and 
Cross  mutters  between  his  set 
teeth,  "  Five  minutes  more  of  this 
will  settle  it." 

But  what  means  this  sudden 
scurry  and  excitement  among  the 
besiegers  ?  Why  do  they  crowd 


AWAY    TO    THE   RESCUE!        161 

and  clamor  there  at  the  north  ? 
What  can  they  see  over  that  ridge 
beyond  the  little  stream  ?  Pres 
ently  others  join  them.  Then 
more  and  more.  Then  there  are 
whoops  of  rage  ;  a  few  ill-aimed, 
scattering  shots.  Three  or  four 
of  the  red  men  ride  daringly, 
tauntingly  down,  as  though  to  re 
sume  the  attack,  and  shout  vile 
epithets  in  vilest  English  in  re 
sponse  to  the  shots  with  which 
they  are  greeted,  and  then  they 
too  go  riding  away.  "  Lie  down, 
you  idiots  !"  yells  Captain  Cross  to 
the  two  soldiers  who  would  spring 
up  to  cheer,  but  a  moment  more 
and  even  the  wounded  wave  their 
feeble  hands  and  join  in  the 
triumphant  shout.  The  ridge  is 
cleared  of  every  vestige  of  the 


1 62  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

foe.  The  warriors  go  speeding 
away  eastward  toward  the  Platte. 
Far  out  over  the  prairie,  to  the 
northeast,  a  troop  of  blue  horse 
men  are  driving  in  pursuit,  and, 
over  the  neighboring  crest,  come 
a  half  dozen  friendly  forms  and 
faces,  spurring  their  foam-flecked 
horses  in  the  race. 

"  Look  up,  sergeant  !  Look  up, 
old  man  !  Here's  Fred  himself. 
Didn't  I  tell  you  he  was  no  de 
serter?"  It  was  Cross'  voice, 
and  it  is  Cross'  strong  arm  that 
lifts  the  wondering,  trembling 
veteran  to  his  feet.  The  young 
fellow  has  leaped  from  his  horse 
and  is  springing  toward  them. 
With  wondrous  look  of  relief,  of 
inexpressible  joy,  of  gratitude  be 
yond  all  words,  of  almost  Heaven- 


AWAY    TO    THE  KESCUE  >         163 

born  rapture  mingling  with  the 
sunshine  in  his  old  face,  the  ser 
geant  stretches  forth  his  trembling 
arms  and  cries  aloud,  "  My  boy  ! 
my  boy ! " 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

INNOCENT    OR    GUILTY. 

HE  provost  sergeant  at 
Fort  Robinson  is  a  man 
who  has  seen  and  heard  a  great 
deal  in  the  course  of  his  army 
life,  and  who  has  the  enviable 
faculty  of  knowing  everything 
that  is  going  on  around  him, 
without  appearing  to  know  any 
thing  at  all.  It  had  been  his  duty, 
a  day  or  two  previous,  to  expel 
from  the  limits  of  the  reservation 
a  rascally  pack  of  gamblers — a 
species  of  two-legged  prairie  wolf 


INNOCENT  OR   GUILTY?  165 

that  in  the  rough  old  days  on  the 
frontier  followed  every  movement 
of  the  Army  paymasters,  and 
lured  and  trapped  the  soldiers 
until  every  cent  of  their  money 
was  gone.  In  point  of  number 
the  gamblers  were  strong  enough 
to  take  care  of  themselves  in  case 
of  Indian  attack,  yet  rarely  did 
they  venture  far  from  the  pro 
tection  of  the  nearest  troops. 
Driven  out  of  post  and  forbidden 
to  return,  they  had  simply  camped 
with  their  whole  "outfit"  at  the 
lower  edge  of  the  military  reserva 
tion,  where  the  laws  of  the  State 
of  Nebraska  and  not  the  orders 
of  Uncle  Sam  took  precedence. 
And  here  they  "  set  up  shop " 
again,  and  had  a  game  going  in 
full  blast  this  very  sunshiny  Sun- 


1 66  TRUMPETER   FRED. 

day  morning,  and  the  provost  ser 
geant  knew  all  about  it.  He  also 
knew  by  ten  o'clock  that  Sergeant 
Dawson  and  Private  Patsy  Dono 
van  of  Charlton's  troop,  with  some 
adventurous  spirits  from  the  garri 
son,  were  down  there,  "  bucking 
their  luck  "  against  the  tricks  of 
these  skilled  practitioners  ;  and  it 
was  not  hard  to  predict  what  the 
result  would  be. 

"  Shall  I  take  a  file  of  the  guard 
and  fetch  them  back,  sir?"  he 
asked  the  colonel  commanding, 
and  that  gentleman  glanced  in 
quiringly  at  his  cavalry  friend. 

"  How  say  you,  captain  ?  " 
Charlton  reflected  a  moment  and 
then  replied  : 

"  No,  colonel.  I  should  say 
let  them  have  all  the  rope  they 


INNOCENT  OR    GUILTY?          167 

choose  to  take.  I  can  get  them 
when  they  are  needed.  You  are 
sure  about  their  whereabouts  on 
Tuesday  and  Wednesday  nights  ?" 
he  asked,  turning  to  the  sergeant. 

"  Perfectly,  sir  ;  and  just  what 
they  lost  and  how  much  they 
owed  the  quartermaster's  gang- 
when  they  left." 

"  Just  see  where  they  are  at 
noon  then,  and  let  me  know,"  and 
the  provost  sergeant  went  his 
way,  leaving  the  officers  in  consul 
tation. 

At  noon  the  soldier  telegrapher 
came  hurrying  to  the  colonel  and 
handed  him  a  dispatch. 

"  I  feared  as  much,"  said  the  old 
soldier  as  he  handed  the  paper  to 
Captain  Charlton.  "  This  means 
work  for  you  at  once.  Let  us  go 


1 68  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

to  the  office  ;  there  will  be  dis 
patches  from  Omaha  presently. 
Isn't  it  strange  that  no  one  at 
Sidney  should  have  heard  of  the 
Indians  getting  over  the  Platte?" 
At  two  o'clock  Charlton's  troop 
was  in  saddle,  with  only  three 
familiar  faces  missing  from  the  line. 
In  the  new  excitement  the  men 
had  ceased  to  speak  of  Trumpeter 
Fred.  What  puzzled  them  now 
was  the  absence  of  Dawson  and 
Donovan.  A  sergeant  sent  into 
the  garrison,  to  warn  them  that 
the  troop  was  to  march  at  once, 
came  back  to  say  that  he  had 
searched  every  stable  and  corral ; 
the  horses  were  nowhere  about 
the  post  or  the  Agency  stores,  and 
men  on  guard  said  that  they  had 
seen  the  two  troopers  riding  away 


INNOCENT  OR   GUILTY?          169 

down  White  River  soon  after  one 
o'clock,  and  they  had  not  come 
back.  And  when  Graham  re 
ported  them  absent  to  Captain 
Charlton,  as  the  latter  in  his 
familiar  scouting  costume  rode 
out  to  take  command,  the  whole 
troop  was  amazed  that  their  leader 
seemed  to  treat  it  as  a  matter 
of  no  consequence  whatever.  He 
returned  the  sergeant's  salute  and 
inquired : 

"  Every  horse  fed  and 
watered  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Every  man  got  two  days'  hard 
bread  and  bacon  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  How  much  ammunition  ?" 

"  Eighty  rounds  carbine  per 
man — twenty  revolver,  sir." 


17°  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

"  Very  good,  sergeant ;  "  and 
this  brief  colloquy  ended,  the  ser 
geant  reined  about  and  rode  to 
the  right  flank.  "  Prepare  to 
mount — mount  !  "  ordered  the  cap 
tain.  "Form  ranks!"  and  with 
out  further  delay,  "  Fours  right — 
march  !  "  and  away  they  went  up 
the  lonely  valley,  along  the  wind 
ing  water,  breaking  into  columns 
of  twos  and  riding  "at  ease"  the 

o 

moment  they  had  passed  the  point 
where  the  post  commander  and 
a  little  knot  of  officers  had  as 
sembled  to  bid  them  God-speed. 
Captain  Charlton  bent  down  from 
his  saddle  to  grasp  the  colonel's 
extended  hand  and  whisper  a  few 
words  in  his  ear,  The  colonel 
nodded  appreciatively.  "  They 
can't  escape,"  he  answered  low, 


INNOCENT  OR   GUILTY?          17* 

and  then,  watched  by  friendly  eyes 
in  that  little  group  until  out  of 
sight,  and  by  fierce  and  lurking 
spies  until  darkness  shrouded 
them  from  view,  the  troop  rode 
jauntily  on  its  mission  ;  Charlton 
and  Blunt  in  murmured  consulta 
tion  in  the  lead,  and  forty-eight 
stalwart  troopers  confidently  and 
unquestioningly  following  in  their 
tracks.  Who  cared  that  an  all- 
night  ride  through  Indian-haunted 
wilds  was  before  them  ?  It  was 
an  old,  old  story  to  every  man. 

Were  there  "  ghost  lights  "  on 
the  Niobrara  that  night  ?  The 
Indian  spies  could  swear  by  the 
deeds  of  their  ancestors  that  the 
troop  soon  climbed  out  of  the 
valley  of  the  White  River  and 
rode  briskly  southward  by  the  Sid- 


172  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

ney  trail,  and  that  every  man  was 
in  his  place  in  column  when  they 
wound  down  in  the  "  Running 
Water"  flats  at  twilight.  Yet 
hours  afterward,  far  to  the  west, 
miles  away  at  the  Laramie  cross 
ing,  there  were  twinkling,  dancing, 
"firefly"  gleams — like  will-o'-the- 
wisps — through  the  chinks  and 
loop-holes  of  that  old  log  hut,  and 
when  morning  came  the  ground 
was  stamped  with  a  fresh  impress 
of  half  a  dozen  set  of  hoof  tracks — 
shod  horses,  not  Indian  ponies  this 
time. 

It  must  have  meant  "  bad  medi 
cine  "  for  the  Sioux,  for  when 
morning  came  all  the  bands  that 
had  been  so  confidently  raiding 
the  trails  through  the  settlements 
found  themselves  compelled  to 


INNOCENT  OR   GUILTY?          173 

seek  the  shelter  of  their  reserva 
tions.  From  Laramie  to  Sidney 
the  stalwart  infantry  came  march 
ing  to  the  scene,  and  from  east, 
north,  and  west  the  cavalry  came 
trotting,  troop  after  troop,  to  hem 
in  and  head  them  off.  The  very 
band  that  ventured  south  of  the 
Platte  and  killed  in  cold  blood 
those  helpless  teamsters,  and  then 
sought  the  destruction  of  Gaines 
and  his  men,  fleeing  now  before 
Wallace's  troops,  were  met  and 
soundly  thrashed  by  our  friends  of 
Company  B,  with  Captain  Charlton 
and  Lieutenant  Blunt  in  the  lead, 
and  by  Monday  night  the  broad 
valley  was  clear  of  savage  foes, 
the  cavalry  were  resting  by  their 
bivouac  fires,  and  then,  from  the 
lips  of  Captain  Wallace,  Charlton 


174  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

heard  the  story  of  Fred  Waller's 
exploit,  and  of  the  long  gallop  that 
brought  about  the  rescue  of  Colo 
nel  Gaines.  Our  captain  could 
hardly  wait  for  morning  to  come, 
but  in  two  days  more  he  was  stand 
ing  by  the  bedside  of  his  old  ser 
geant  at  Sidney  barracks,  and 
Trumpeter  Fred  was  there  too. 
One  week  later,  in  the  big,  sun 
shiny  assembly  room  of  the  old 
barrack,  an  impressive  scene  took 
place,  and  a  long  remembered 
though  very  brief  trial  was  brought 
to  an  abrupt  close.  A  court-mar 
tial  was  in  session  at  Sidney  ;  the 
general  who  commanded  the  de 
partment  had  himself  arrived  to 
look  into  the  condition  of  affairs 
about  the  Indian  reservation,  and 
with  Captain  Charlton  had  had  a 


INNOCENT  OR   GUILTY*          i?5 

long  consultation,  at  the  close  of 
which  the  bearded,  kindly-faced 
brigadier  had  gone  to  the  hospital 
with  the  troop  commander,  and 
bending  over  old  Waller  as  he  lay 
upon  the  narrow  cot,  took  his  hand 
and  talked  with  him  about  Five 
Forks  and  Appomattox,  and  then 
promised  him  that  his  wish  should 
be  respected.  It  was  a  singular 
wish — a  strange  thing  for  a  father 
to  ask.  Old  Sergeant  Waller  had 
insisted  that  his  boy  should  be 
brought  to  trial  before  the  court- 
martial  then  in  session,  and  con 
victed  or  acquitted  of  the  double 
charge  of  theft  and  desertion  that 
had  been  lodged  against  him.  In 
vain  Charlton  represented  to  him 
that  it  was  not  necessary,  nobody 
believed  the  stories  now ;  the 


I?6  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

veteran  was  firm  and  positive  in 
the  stand  he  made. 

"  Everywhere  in  this  department, 
sir,  my  boy's  name  has  been  held 
up  to  shame  as  a  thief  and  a 
deserter.  There  is  only  one  way 
to  clear  him ;  let  him  stand  trial, 
prove  his  innocence,  and  let  us  fix 
the  guilt  where  it  belongs."  And 
Waller  was  right. 

Who  that  was  in  the  court  room 
that  hot  August  morning,  when 
the  south  wind  blew  the  dust- 
cloud  into  the  post  and  burned 
the  very  skin  from  the  bronzed 
faces  around  the  whitewashed 
wall,  will  ever  forget  the  closing 
incidents  of  that  trial  ?  At  the 
long  wooden  table  sat  the  nine 
officers  who  composed  the  court 


INNOCENT  OR   GUILTY?          177 

with  their  gray-haired  president  at 
the  head,  all  dressed  in  their  full 
uniforms,  all  grave  and  silent.  At 
the  lower  end  of  the  table  was  the 
keen,  shrewd  face  of  the  young 
judge  advocate  who  conducted 
the  entire  proceedings.  On  one 
side  of  him,  quiet,  self-possessed, 
and  patient,  sat  little  Fred,  neat 
and  trim  as  a  new  pin  in  his  fault 
less  fatigue  dress.  A  little  behind 
the  boy  was  his  captain,  Charlton, 
and  along  the  wall,  at  the  end  of 
the  room,  Colonel  Gaines,  with  his 
arm  still  in  a  sling,  and  Captain 
Cross,  with  his  piercing  restless 
eyes  and  "fighting  face."  On  the 
other  side  of  the  judge  advocate 
stood  the  chair  in  which  witness 
after  witness  had  taken  his  seat 
and  given  his  testimony,  and  now 


I?8  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

at  high  noon  it  was  empty,  and  the 
crowd  of  spectators,  sitting  in  re 
spectful  silence  around  the  room, 
craned  their  necks  and  gazed  at 
the  doorway  in  hushed,  yet  eager 
curiosity  to  see  the  man  whose 
name  had  just  been  passed  to  the 
orderly.  It  was  understood  that 
the  case  for  the  prosecution  de 
pended  mainly  upon  his  evidence. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

COURT-MARTIAL. 

IRST  SERGEANT  GRA 
HAM  had  sworn  to  the  dis 
appearance  of  the  money  at  the  Nio- 
braraand  the  fact  that  at  daybreak 
the  trumpeter  had  gone  with  his 
horse,  arms,  and  equipments.  He 
also  told  of  his  belief  that  he  and 
the  men  who  slept  near  him  that 
night  had  been  stupefied  by  chloro 
form.  Two  other  troopers  told  of 
the  loss  of  their  money  at  the  same 
time  ;  the  hospital  steward  from 

Fort  Robinson  testified  to  Fred's 
179 


l8o  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

coming  to  him  and  getting  a  little 
vial  of  chloroform  on  a  forged 
request  from  Sergeant  Graham. 
Corporal  Watts  had  positively 
identified  a  ten-dollar  bill,  which 
was  in  the  trumpeter's  possession 
when  he  was  searched  (at  his  own 
request)  when  first  accused  of  the 
crime,  as  one  stolen  from  him  at 
the  Niobrara.  He  had  had  some 
experience,  he  said,  and  had  made 
a  record  of  the  numbers  ;  and  this 
record,  in  a  little  notebook,  was 
exhibited  to  the  court. 

Not  once  had  the  defense  in 
terposed  or  asked  a  question.  It 
was  evidently  the  policy  of  Fred's 
advisers  to  let  the  prosecution  go 
as  far  as  it  chose.  And  now  came 
the  announcement  of  the  name 
that  was  most  intimately  con- 


COURT-MARTIAL.  i8i 

nected  with  the  case,  and  Sergeant 
Dawson  in  his  complete  uniform 
strolled  into  court,  removed  the 
gauntlet  from  his  right  hand,  and 
holding  it  aloft,  looked  the  judge 
advocate  squarely  in  the  face  and 
swore  to  tell  the  truth,  the  whole 
truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth. 
Then  he  sat  down  and  glanced 
quickly  around  him,  but  his  eyes 
did  not  seem  to  see  Fred  Waller, 
nor  did  they  rest  for  an  instant  on 
Captain  Charlton,  who,  tugging  at 
his  mustache,  looked  steadily  at 
the  face  of  his  left  guide.  Then 
began  the  slow,  painful,  cumbrous 
method  by  which  the  law  of  the 
land  requires  military  courts  to 
extract  their  evidence,  every  ques 
tion  and  answer  being  reduced  to 
writing.  Sergeant  Dawson  gave, 


1 82  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

as  required,  his  full  rank,  troop, 
regiment,  and  station,  but  hesitated 
as  to  the  latter  point.  "  I  was 
left  behind  at  Red  Cloud  when 
the  troop  came  away  Sunday  a 
week  ago,  sir,  along  with  Private 
Donovan,  and  we  were  kept  there 
until  I  got  orders  to  come  here 
with  the  hospital  steward.  I  just 
got  in  this  morning,  and  I'm  told 
the  troop  is  back  at  the  Platte 
crossing."  But  the  matter  of 
station  was  of  no  particular  con 
sequence,  and  the  examination 
proceeded.  Yes,  he  knew  the 
prisoner,  Trumpeter  Fred  Waller, 
Troop  B,  and  had  known  him 
several  years  before  he  had  en 
listed.  Told  to  tell  in  his  own 
way  what  he  knew  of  the  circum 
stances  that  led  to  the  charges 


COURT-MARTIAL.  183 

against  Waller,  the  witness  cleared 
his  throat  and  began. 

It  was  the  night  they  camped 
at  the  Niobrara,  giving  the  date, 
that  the  prisoner  seemed  restless. 
All  the  men  expected  the  Indians 
to  make  an  attempt  to  run  off  the 
horses^  and  all  were  wakeful,  but 
he  had  most  occasion  to  notice 
Waller,  who  didn't  seem  able  to 
sleep.  That  night  passed  without 
alarm  of  any  kind,  but  the  next 
night  it  was  very  dark,  the  moon 
went  down  at  eleven,  and  the 
horses  got  to  stamping  and  snort 
ing.  Witness  was  sergeant  of  the 
guard,  and  all  night  long  had  to 
be  moving  about  among  his  sen 
tries  and  the  herd.  About  mid 
night  he  had  come  in  to  the 
fire,  where  Sergeant  Graham  was 


1 84  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

sleeping,  to  clean  out  his  pipe,  that 
had  clogged.  His  leather  wallet, 
with  his  money  and  some  papers, 
was  inside  the  canvas  scouting 
jacket  that  the  captain  allowed 
him  and  others  of  the  men  to 
wear,  and  he  took  the  jacket  off  a 
few  minutes  while  he  walked  over 
to  the  stream  and  soused  his  head 
and  face  in  the  cold  water,  a  thing 
he  always  tried  to  do  when  he  felt 
sleepy.  While  there  he  thought 
he  heard  a  call  from  the  sentry  up 
the  stream  and  he  ran  thither,  and 
it  was  just  then  that  the  horses 
began  making  such  a  fuss.  He 
kept  around  among  the  sentries, 
trying  to  find  out  the  cause,  and 
did  not  go  back  to  the  fire  until  it 
was  all  quiet  after  two  o'clock, 
and  then  he  slipped  into  his  jacket 


COURT-MARTIAL.  185 

and  overcoat  and  hurried  back  to 
where  Donovan  was  on  post  be 
low  the  bivouac.  There  was 
some  noise  they  could  not  under 
stand,  far  out  on  the  prairie  in 
that  direction.  He  never  missed 
his  money  and  the  wallet  until 
daybreak,  when  it  was  discovered 
that  Waller  had  gone.  He  never 
heard  him  steal  away  during  the 
night,  and  was  simply  amazed 
when  told  of  his  desertion.  The 
lieutenant  had  been  disposed  to 
blame  him  at  first  for  letting  the 
trumpeter  get  away  with  his 
horse,  but  no  man  could  have 
been  more  vigilant  than  he  was. 
"  The  captain  had  never  blamed 
him,"  he  was  sure  from  the  cap 
tain's  manner  when  he  spoke  to 
him  about  it  at  Red  Cloud.  And 


1 86  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

Dawson  looked  confidently  now 
at  his  commander,  but  that  gentle 
man  never  changed  a  muscle  of 
his  face. 

As  was  customary,  the  judge 
advocate  inquired  if  the  prisoner 
had  any  questions  to  ask,  and  the 
spectators  were  amazed  when  he 
calmly  answered,  "  No."  Big  beads 
of  sweat  were  trickling  down  the 
sergeant's  face  by  this  time,  but 
he  could  not  control  the  look  of 
wonderment  that  flashed  for  one 
instant  into  his  eyes  at  this  re 
fusal  of  a  valued  privilege. 

"  Has  the  court  any  ques 
tions?"  asked  the  judge  advocate, 
and  to  the  still  greater  wonder 
ment  of  spectators  and  witness  no 
member  of  the  court  appeared  to 
care  to  inquire  further.  When 


CO  UR  T-MAR  TIA  L.  187 

Sergeant  Dawson  left  the  court 
room  and  walked  away  toward  the 
barracks  he  knew  that  all  eyes  were 
upon  him,  and  just  as  soon  as  he 
could  throw  aside  his  saber,  helmet, 
and  full  dress  he  lost  no  time  in 
getting  to  the  trader's  store  and 
swallowing  half  a  tumbler  of  raw 
whisky.  He  thought  the  ordeal 
over  and  that  he  was  free.  It  was 
with  a  sensation  of  something  like 
premonition  that,  as  he  came  forth, 
he  saw  at  the  barracks  the  orderly 
of  the  court-martial,  who  had  been 
sent  to  warn  him  that  he  would 
be  called  by  the  defense  at  two 
o'clock. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

PRISON    AND    PROMOTION. 

HAT  afternoon  the  court 
room  was  crowded  when 
Sergeant  Dawson  retook  his  seat 
and  glanced  for  the  first  time  at 
the  prisoner  before  him.  In  front 
of  the  boy  was  a  little  table,  on 
which  was  a  number  of  slips  of 
paper.  One  of  these  was  quietly 
passed  to  the  judge  advocate,  who 
took  it,  wheeled  in  his  chair,  and 
read  aloud  : 

"  What    answer    did    you    give 
Lieutenant   Blunt  when   he  asked 

1 88 


PRISON  AND  PROMOTION.        189 

if  you  had  been  outside  the  sen 
try-line  the  night  the  prisoner 
disappeared  ?  " 

"  I  told  him  that  I  had  not,  sir," 
was  the  prompt  reply. 

The  judge  advocate  posted  the 
reply  on  his  record  sheet,  and 
wrote  the  answer  below.  Then 
came  another  slip. 

"  What  answer  did  you  give  the 
captain  when  asked  if  any  man 
had  ridden  back  toward  the  Nio- 
brara  the  morning  the  troop  left 
there  for  Red  Cloud?" 

The  sergeant's  throat  seemed 
to  clog  a  little,  but  he  gulped 
down  the  obstruction.  "  I  said  no 
man  went  back,  sir." 

"What  buildings,  if  any,  were 
there  near  the  spot  where  the  troop 
was  in  bivouac  on  the  Niobrara  ?" 


19°  TRUMPETER  FRED.        - 

Dawson's  face  was  losing  its 
ruddy  hue,  but  the  beads  of  sweat 
were  starting  afresh. 

"  An  old  empty  log  hut,  sir.  I 
didn't  take  much  notice  of  it,  sir." 

"  How  far  from  the  sentries 
was  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  just  know,  sir.  Two 
or  three  hundred  yards  perhaps." 
His  lips  were  beginning  to  twitch, 
and  his  eyes  to  wander  nervously 
from  face  to  face. 

"  How  much  money  did  you 
lose  with  your  wallet  that  night." 

"  Over  sixty  dollars,  sir ;  every 
cent  I  had." 

"  What  answer  did  you  give 
Captain  Charlton  at  Red  Cloud 
when  he  asked  you  if  you  had 
seen  anything  of  it  since  that 
night?" 


PRISON  AND   PROMOTION.       191 

"  I  told  him  no,  sir." 

"  With  whose  money  were  you 
playing  cards  then,  below  Red 
Cloud,  on  the  Sunday  the  troop 
marched  away,  leaving  you 
behind?" 

Dawson's  face  was  ghastly. 
He  choked  for  a  moment,  then 
seemed  to  make  a  desperate  effort 
to  pull  himself  together.  "  It 
wasn't  so,  sir,"  he  muttered  ;  then 
more  loudly,  "  It  was  just  a  few 
dollars  I  borrowed,"  he  began, 
but  looking  furtively  around  he 
caught  one  glimpse  of  his  cap 
tain's  stern  face,  and  just  beyond 
him,  through  the  open  window, 
the  sight  of  a  tall,  straight  form 
in  the  uniform  of  the  infantry.  It 
was  the  provost  sergeant  from 
Fort  Robinson. 


I92  TRUMPETER   FRED. 

"  It  wasn't  mine,"  he  weakly 
murmured. 

Another  slip,  and  in  the  same 
cool,  relentless  tone  the  judge 
advocate  read  : 

"  What  reason  had  you  for 
taking  your  horse  to  the  post 
blacksmith,  instead  of  the  cavalry 
farrier,  to  be  shod  the  evening 
you  reached  Fort  Robinson?" 

Again  the  pallor  of  his  face  was 
almost  ghastly,  a  hunted  and  des 
perate  look  came  into  his  flitting 
eyes.  One  could  have  heard  a 
pin  drop  anywhere  in  the  court 
room,  so  intense  was  the  silence. 
For  the  first  time  Dawson  began 
to  realize  that  his  every  move 
ment  had  been  watched,  traced, 
and  reported — and  still  he  strove 
to  rally. 


PRISON  AXD  PROMOTION.       1 93 

"  He  was  a  better  horse-shoer, 
that's  all." 

"  You  have  testified  that  you 
did  not  go  outside  of  the  line  on 
the  night  of  the  camp  on  the 
Niobrara,  and  did  not  allow  any 
one  to  go  back  after  the  troop 
marched  away.  For  what  pur 
pose  did  you,  yourself,  ride  back 
and  enter  the  log  hut  you  de 
scribed  ?" 

"  I — I  never  did,"  gasped  Daw- 
son,  with  glaring  eyes  and  ashen 

face,  "  I but  his  tongue 

seemed  to  cleave  to  the  roof  of 
his  mouth,  for  Captain  Chariton 
quietly  arose,  stepped  forward, 
and  placed  upon  the  table  a 
large,  flat  wallet,  at  sight  of 
which  the  sergeant's  nerves  gave 
way  entirely.  He  made  one  or 


194  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

two  efforts  to  speak,  he  struggled 
as  if  to  rise,  his  eyes  rolled  in 
his  head,  and  in  another  instant 
he  was  slipping  helplessly  to  the 
floor.  A  young  surgeon  sprang 
to  his  side  as  the  bystanders 
strove  to  lift  him,  and  with  one 
brief  glance  turned  to  the  court : 
"Mr.  President,  this  man  is  in 
a  spasm,  and  should  be  taken  to 
the  hospital." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  was  the  calm 
reply.  "  Major  Edwards,  will 
you  see  to  it  that  a  sentry  is 
posted  over  him.  That  man 
must  not  be  allowed  to  escape." 

Two  more  witnesses  were  ex 
amined  that  afternoon — the  prov 
ost  sergeant  and  Captain  Charl- 
ton.  The  former  testified  that 
Dawson  had  been  gambling  and 


PRISON  AND   PROMOTION.        195 

had  lost  heavily  in  the  post  before 
pay  day ;  that  on  that  fateful 
Sunday,  bill  after  bill  he  had 
seen  him  pay — over  one  hundred 
dollars  at  the  table  in  the  gam 
blers'  tent  down  below  the  reser 
vation -- before  he  interfered, 
warned  him  of  the  departure  of 
his  troop,  and  ordered  him  to 
report  in  garrison  with  his  horse 
at  once.  Donovan  had  merely 
been  a  looker-on  at  the  mad  game 
in  which  the  sergeant  had  sought 
to  recover  his  losses. 

Charlton  stated  that,  after  his 
investigation  at  Red  Cloud,  he 
was  confident  that  Dawson  was 
the  trooper  who  rode  back  to 
the  old  ranch/ and  that  something 
must  be  concealed  there.  Search 
ing  it  late,  Sunday  night,  he  found 


I96  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

in  the  dugout  a  spot  where  the 
earth  had  been  recently  scooped 
away,  and  there  in  Dawson's  old 
rubber  poncho  was  the  wallet  with 
his  papers  and  about  two  hundred 
dollars  of  the  missing  money,  or 
what  his  men  believed  to  be  such. 
And  then,  amid  the  sympa 
thetic  glances  of  all  the  court, 
young  Fred  told  his  strange  but 
soldierly  story.  It  was  Dawson 
who  asked  him  to  get  the  chloro 
form  for  him  at  Red  Cloud  and 
gave  him  the  folded  pencil  note  ; 
it  was  Dawson  who  suggested  to 
him  the  idea  of  sleeping  down 
below  the  bivouac  that  evening 
near  where  Donovan  was  posted, 
and  it  was  Dawson  who  roused 
him  suddenly  and  startlingly  in 
the  dead  of  the  night.  "  Up  with 


PKJSON  AND  PROMOTION.        197 

you,  Frecl,  boy!"  he  had  said. 
"Up  with  you,  but  make  no  noise. 
There's  the  devil's  own  news ! 
The  Indians  are  out  everywhere ! 
The  lieutenant's  just  got  a  courier 
from  Robinson,  and  he  and  Ser 
geant  Graham  have  to  write  dis 
patches  to  go  right  to  the  captain 
at  Laramie.  You  know  the 
whole  Platte  valley,  and  how  to 
get  across  and  reach  the  Sidney 
road  below?"  Of  course  he  did. 
"  Then  the  lieutenant  says,  for 
God's  sake  lose  not  a  minute  ;  go 
for  all  you're  worth ;  keep  well 
to  the  west  until  you  cross  the 
Platte,  and  then  make  for  the 
southeast,  and  warn  back  every 
body  who  is  coming  north.  He 
says  Mrs.  Charlton  and  the  chil 
dren  were  to  come  that  way, 


I98  TRUMPETER  FRED. 

Saturday  or  Sunday,  to  join  the 
captain  at  Red  Cloud.  You  can 
save  them,  if  you're  in  time." 

Suddenly  roused  from  sleep, 
Fred  was  bewildered  for  an  in 
stant  ;  could  only  realize  that  his 
loved  benefactors  and  friends  were 
in  deadly  peril  and  that  he  was 
chosen  to  haste  and  rescue  them, 
Dawson  lifted  him  into  the 
saddle  ;  pressed  some  money  into 
his  hand  to  buy  food  when  he 
reached  the  settlement  or  Sidney, 
in  case  he  met  no  travelers  this 
side ;  led  him  to  the  water's  edge, 
and  bade  him  lose  not  an  instant. 
He  never  dreamed  of  harm  or 
wrong  or  plot  until  his  wounded 
father  told  him  the  foul  charge 
against  him,  after  his  long  and  gal 
lant  ride  that  blazing  Sunday. 


PRISON  AND  PROMOTION.        199 

Then  for  a  moment  the  little 
man  broke  down  and  sobbed  ;  and 
old  war-worn  soldiers  in  the  court 
turned  away  with  glistening  eyes, 
and  the  president,  rapping  on  the 
table,  huskily  ordered  the  room  to 
be  cleared.  Charlton's  arms  were 
around  his  trumpeter's  shoulders 
as  he  led  him  to  the  open  air,  and 
to  his  father's  bedside.  "  Cleared  !  " 
he  said,  in  answer  to  the  longing 
look  in  the  sergeant's  eyes. 
"  Cleared !  There  isn't  a  man, 
woman,  or  child  in  all  the  post 
that  doesn't  know  the  verdict,  and 
that  Dawson  is  doomed  to  four 
years  in  prison."  And  then  he 
left  them  together  and  alone. 

Dawson's  trial  and  confession 
settled  it  all.  He  himself  was  the 
thief,  who  sought  in  this  way  to 


HE   SOUNDED    THE    KETKEAT. 


TRUMPETER  FRED.  200 

replace  the  money  lost  in  gam 
bling  and  to  throw  upon  Fred 
Waller,  should  he  escape,  the 
burden  of  the  crime.  But  a 
merciful  God  had  watched  over 
the  boy  in  his  brave  and  loyal 
effort ;  had  guided  him  in  safety 
through  a  host  of  savage  foes,  and 
led  him  on  to  honor  and  vindi 
cation  in  the  end.  For  months 
there  was  no  happier  boy  on  all 
the  wide  frontier  than  the  little 
hero  of  the  Sidney  route ;  no 
happier  father  than  brave  old 
Sergeant  Waller. 

Long  years  afterward,  riding 
one  evening  into  a  cavalry  camp 
on  the  Southern  plains,  Captain 
Cross  and  the  writer  noted  a 
tall,  blue-eyed,  bronzed-cheeked 


201         PRISON  AND   PROMOTION. 

trooper,  whose  twirling  mustache 
was  almost  the  color  of  the  faded 
yellow  of  the  chevrons  on  his 
sleeve.  Despite  dust  and  the 
rough  prairie  dress,  no  finer 
soldier  had  met  their  eyes  in  the 
long  column  that  went  flitting  by. 

"  Who  is  that  young  first  ser 
geant  ?  " 

"That?"  answered  Cross  in 
surprise.  "  Don't  you  know  who 
that  is  ?  Why,  man,  that's  Charl- 
ton's  old  Trumpeter  Fred." 


THE    END, 


DATE  DUE 


foTZIIIL 


JAN  04 


BRA 


3  1970  00410  38 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A      000299869 


